


Another Shitty Law School AU

by ghostburr



Category: American Revolution RPF
Genre: an au centered around james goddamn madison of all people, how did i let it happen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-29
Updated: 2018-05-29
Packaged: 2019-05-15 11:59:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 31,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14790113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostburr/pseuds/ghostburr
Summary: this is another fic-in-progress that i started about five years ago that i abandoned but due to popular demand (4 people) i'm revising / editing / continuing it and bringing it back to life. hopefully.





	1. Chapter 1

Alexander tapped a ball point pen against the splintering wood of the picnic table; paint peeling, he had spent the past twenty minutes picking at the shards and shredding them between his fingers, nails chewed to the quick, humming an inarticulate tune. The stress of law school—he would be graduating in less than a year—wore on him daily. Columbia was a prestigious university, as his Princeton friend Jemmy assured him on an almost daily basis, but Alexander could not shake the ever present feeling that he was always second best.

Jemmy, tiny and unassuming, made his way up the path. The weekend had been rough on him, as most weekends were on the quiet little scholar, regardless of whether he went out or stayed in. If he went out, he immediately wished he’d stayed back in the dorm: alone, he could concentrate on his studies more fruitfully without the faithful distractions of his hedonistic room mate. If he stayed in, the little scholar felt lonely, isolated, and quite a bit like the resident party pooper. 

This weekend, spent studying outside for a change of pace, had him more stressed than ever. The stress could be traced to a particular friend who decided to drop by for an unplanned visit. Jemmy sighed and swallowed the nerves in his throat; tried not to think about the papers he had to write. He came upon Alexander and smiled, exhausted.

“How long have you been waiting?” Jemmy placed his thick book bag, stuffed almost to bursting, on the table. Alexander got right to the point.

“You were awfully cozy with Aaron at that party Friday night,” he said, in one breath. Jemmy looked at him quizzically.

“He’s my roommate,” he began, “we’re used to each other’s company.”

Jemmy faltered, unsure how to answer the accusation. He liked Alexander, truly he did, but he was was impulsive, and dramatic. Jemmy often felt like Alexander was constantly in the process of convincing himself to do something desperate.

“I know he’s your roommate, and it’s probably not my place to say anything, but there are some wild rumors about him—”

“—He’s my friend, Alexander. As are you. Is this about me not giving you a ride into the city last weekend?” The City, as the students called it, referred to Manhattan—long a central hang out for many of the students. “I told you, I couldn’t. I had to study for that test—”

“—I know you’re my friend. That’s why I’m warning you.” Alexander brushed bits of wood off his hands and straightened himself upright. “I’m warning you to keep an eye on him, and not get too close.”

Jemmy sighed audibly, deciding to go for the bait. “Alright, Alexander. What is it you’ve got to tell me?”

Alexander shifted his weight and put both elbows on the table.

“Aaron is bad. I mean  _ really _ bad,” Alexander blushed bright red, “he’s a mess. His grades are slipping and if it wasn’t for his wealthy uncle he would have been kicked out long ago. But his uncle’s got some bargain worked out with the school—”

“—This has nothing to do with me, Alex,” Jemmy reasoned, leaning in closer over the table. He  _ thought _ he smelled alcohol on the other student’s breath, bit his lip nervously, and then leaned back again. “You tell me all of this as if it effects me. It doesn’t.”

“I mean I don’t want him having a…” Alexander struggled, “… _ bad influence _ on you. You know what I mean.”

Jemmy straightened himself, preparing for the tirade, “I assure you I do not.”

Unable to make his case known, Alexander grw frustrated and bit the inside of his cheek.

“He’s going to drag you under with him. I can sense it. Transfer schools—”

“—Alexander, for God’s sake,” Jemmy spat. There were times when he heeded Alexander’s warnings, and there were times when Jemmy swore that Alexander saw demons in everyone but himself. “I’m not  _ transferring schools _ because you have a problem with my roommate.”

“It would be for your own benefit,” Alexander reasoned, eyebrows raised. He raised a finger and twirled it around, pointing to nothing; to everything. “Networking, too. If you associate yourself with bad eggs, no one will want to hire you. Doesn’t matter what state you plan on moving to. This sort of thing will haunt you forever.”

“If you have a problem, talk to Aaron yourself,” the tiny scholar reached for his books, his own face warm with embarrassment. Alexander laid a hand on them quickly, looking into his friend’s eyes.

“Haven’t you ever felt….you know.  _ Uncomfortable _ around him?” Alexander narrowed his gaze, and his voice dropped, “Has he ever tried to…like… _ hit on  _ you? Or say  _ inappropriate things _ to you?”

“Oh, for God’s sake!” Jemmy repeated, louder. He snatched his books. “You don’t care about my well-being at all. You just want to gossip!”

Alexander exhaled, annoyed, and resumed picking the splinters off the table. The tiny student, dressed mostly in black, continued his reasoning.

“Aaron is a decent guy— _ And I refuse to let your own personal hang ups affect my relationships.” _ Jemmy grabbed the rest of his things and stormed off, leaves fluttering in his wake.

\--------

Matt shifted himself into a more comfortable position, his head resting casually on the crook of his elbow, a book opened next to him. He liked studying with his cousin Aaron—thought it motivate his distractible him and kept him on track. Today, however, neither boy could concentrate.

“Have you actually eaten anything today?” Matt asked, looking over at Aaron’s disinterested face. “It’s nearly two. Have you had lunch yet?”

Aaron shook his head, “Too busy. I woke up at seven for a run and then came back, showered, and immediately started studying. I don’t know why I bother, though,” he said grumpily, tossing his own notebook onto the floor, “these tests are designed for idiots.”

Matt laughed at his cousin’s hubris and rubbed his face. “They’re not  _ that _ easy. Even Jemmy studies. And he’s practically a genius.”

“Jemmy gets off on studying.” Aaron sat up, leaned against the headboard of his bed, his cousin shifting his weight again. His roommate had gone to visit friends out of state for the long weekend, and Aaron had to admit, he  _ did _ miss the little guy. “It gives him something to focus his energies on.”

“And what do  _ you _ focus  _ your  _ energies on?” Matt,, who was more like a brother—a best friend, in fact—looked up at him and smiled. Aaron grinned back.

“I think you know  _ exactly _ what I focus my energies on. Maybe I have that luxury.”

“Maybe you have too much energy.”

Aaron tilted his head back and let out a soft laugh.

“And what am I supposed to do, Matt? Hide myself away and let this energy rot away inside me? We are in the prime of our lives. We shouldn’t be holed away studying dusty old books. We should be studying something more…” Aaron searched for the word, licked his lips, “…succulent.”

At this, both boys laughed harder and Matt closed his own book, “ _ ‘Succulent’ _ ? Weird.”

Matt sat up and stared at Aaron, a smile affixed to his mouth. Aaron toyed with a stretch of fabric on his shirt and sighed.

“I’m so bored. I don’t know.”

“With what?” Matt cocked his head to the side.

“Everything. I don’t know,” Aaron repeated himself, his own small smile already faded. He cleared his throat. “Do you ever get the feeling like everything in life is already planned out? Like we’re just gerbils on a wheel, or something?”

Unsure what to make of the question, Matt laughed nervously. “What the  _ hell  _ are you talking about?”

Aaron situated himself and crossed his legs.

“I mean us. You and me,” he motioned a finger towards his own chest, and then to his cousin, “What do we have to look forward to?”

“We’re graduating in a few months. That will be exciting,” Matt reasoned, lazily picking a piece of lint from his shirt.

Aaron continued, “I mean after that. Life. Everything is all planned out. We go to school, we pass the bar exam, we make a living, and then we die.”

“Aaron, for God’s sake,” Matt replied, concerned, “don’t think like that. What’s gotten in to you? There are plenty of things to look forward to. Marriage, children. Making new friends.”

Aaron raised his gaze to his oldest friend, “Do you remember when I ran away form home, when I was nine or ten? I don’t know. I’ve been thinking a lot about that lately.”

Matt moved nervously, preferring to keep some memories hidden, “I remember Uncle Timothy beating you senseless. I remember the neighbor threatening to call DSS. Why are you bringing this up?”

“That was the first time I realized that there was a life outside of our family, outside of whatever my uncle has planned for me. Or for you, for that matter. Outside of his psychotic religious beliefs. That I could get away, if I wanted to. And if I didn’t at least attempt to get away… I’d be a failure.”

“He never wanted to speak to you again after you dropped out of seminary school. You should have seen him scream,” Matt added with conviction. “I’ve never seen a man so angry. He toyed with disowning you. It was only Aunt Rhoda that stopped him.”

“That’s what I mean,” Aaron specified, “I always tried to please him because I thought that’s what my mother would have wanted. But he terrifies me, Matt. And I’m starting to worry that I’m letting my fear run my life.”

“What brought this on?” Matt replied.

“I keep thinking about that Laurens kid. The one that left for the military because he couldn’t face his father’s disappointment. I could have been that kid, Matt. That could have been any one of us.”

“So you think pissing away your last year in law school is going to somehow make your life worth living?”

“I mean if I just live my life the way he wants me to then it’s a life  _ not  _ worth living.”

“You’re scaring me, man,” Matt said darkly. “If this is about going out tonight, then fine. Let’s go out. Let’s get your mind off this topic. We can go into the city. We can find girls. I don’t care.”

Aaron rubbed his eyes and sighed again.

“That’s…that’s not it. I don’t know. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, Matt. Nothing is satisfying. Nothing is exciting or meaningful or new. Everything is rote and boring… and I  _ hate  _ it.”

Matt put his arm around his cousin’s shoulders.

“Please don’t give up. I promise you everything will be fine. I’ll steal old Tim’s credit card and buy you a boat. You can still sail away.” 

“I supposed I could, huh?” He offered with a sad laugh. “I could just run away in the night, or something. To Canada.”

“Mexico. It’s warmer. You hate the cold.”

Aaron smiled, “I shouldn’t complain. It’s useless. Being sad is useless. It doesn’t change anything.”

Matt watched him warily, covered his doubts with a grin. He moved farther away from his sad friend, and stared at him for a moment.

“You  _ do _ need some excitement, Aaron,” he reiterated. “You’re getting heavy on me.”

“It’s this goddamn school.” Aaron replied.

\--------

Bobby Troup had no idea how deeply his roommate’s venom truly ran as he sat at his desk, twirling a pencil in his fingers. He flipped lazily through a notebook filled with scribblings and half-notes, trying to decipher and remember what they meant. He was still reeling (if he was honest with himself) from the shock of actually getting accepted to law school , let alone Columbia, let alone acquiring a roommate like Alexander, who spun words around the room so rapidly Bobby thought his clothes would tear. Today, the reckless roommate was on the holy warpath.

“I explained it to him, I looked him in the eye and I told him, “Alexander threw a pillow on the floor and looked underneath it for the pen he’d misplaced, “I told him he would be up shit creek without a paddle if he kept putting his trust in the likes of Burr.”

Bobby nodded mutely, never taking his gaze off the page before him.

“I met him in a public place, on neutral ground, and laid out my worries, and he ignored me, Bobby. Jemmy ignored me. I thought he was my friend.” Alexander flung his pillow back onto his bed and then fell to all fours, looking underneath it. “I am so disappointed in him, I feel like I want to hit something. How can he even defend that spoiled, smug, trust-fund—”

“—He doesn’t have to choose between the two of you, you know,” Bobby said, “you’re the one who came to him with your stupid gossip.”

Alexander’s head shot up like a rocket, hair askew.

“It’s not stupid gossip, Bobby. This is his future. This is Jemmy’s future. If he associates with dogs he’s going to get some fleas.”

Bobby turned in his chair, “Fleas? Dogs? You’re just jealous that he made it into Princeton and you didn’t. Calm down, Alex. Stop trying to start drama.”

“I’m not trying to start drama!”

“We’re going into the city tonight and you know we all hang out at the same bars. If you see him tonight, promise me you’re not going to start throwing a fit. Can you promise me that?”

Alexander sputtered and his friend cut him off.

“—No. No, Alex. I will do it. I will leave you at the bar and you’ll have to take a taxi home. I will leave you.”

“Why is it always  _ me  _ that has to make promises?” Alexander responded, exasperated, standing up. “He’s the one who does weird shit and says weird things.”

“Alexander—”

“—You know, I think he wants to sleep with me,” Alexander interjected, lowering  his voice and stepping over to his friend, firing the last round in his arsenal of invective. “He terrifies me. What if he tries to sleep with me?”

Bobby descended into a coughing fit.

“Then you tell him to fuck off, Alexander, Jesus Christ,” he grabbed a water bottle, clearing his throat, “and if you want, we can go to a bar we know he won’t be at.”

“No, no, no. I’m not letting him ruin my night.”

“That’s the spirit,” Bobby replied wryly.

Alexander was not ready to drop the subject. “He makes me uncomfortable, Bobby. He says strange things and has these weird beliefs,” he raised his hands and motioned inarticulately, a look of confusion spreading across his pointed features, “he has these weird beliefs and he scares people and he—”

“—I think he only scares  _ you _ , Alex. I like him.”

Alexander stopped and looked at his friend, betrayed.

“You what?”

“I like him. He’s alright.”

“Not you too,” Alexander ran a hand through his hair, “what is with you people?”

“You can’t control who people are friends with, Alex,” Bobby said more seriously, taking another sip of water, “you have to just accept people for who they are and what they like. Like for instance, Jemmy went to William and Mary this weekend to visit his friend Thomas—”

“—He what?” Alexander’s mouth dropped open. “We were supposed to work on an essay together! It was going to be published!”

“Maybe he forgot.”

“Or maybe, just maybe,” Alexander paced the room, lifting books here and there and flinging them aside, teeth gritted in annoyance, “I am the only sane person on the planet and you’re all a bunch of lunatics—”

“—Ahh, yes. That’s it. Everyone is crazy and you’re the only one who knows the Truth. With a capital T.” Bobby cut in, laughing. He loved his friend, he really did, but when Alexander was on one of his moods… well, Bobby learned early on to let Alexander wear himself out. He recalled, briefly, stumbling in on his roommate praying a few weeks ago and wondered if his friend was headed for the right profession.

“You’re mocking me, Bobby.”

“Yes, I am.”

Alexander stopped short, and chewed his lip. He raised a pointed finger. “I’m still going out tonight. I don’t care what you people think about me. You’ll see what I mean. When you all start counting on him to pull through and he betrays you at the last moment. You’ll see what I mean.”

“That’s not indicative of just him. That’s humanity.”

“I’m not like that, Bobby,” Alexander shot back, voice raised an octave in defense. He felt himself losing control. “I’m not like that at all. That’s selfish. You know you can count on me, and so does Jemmy. He’s putting his friendship in someone shady.”

“I’m not going to argue with you about this again,” the other student stood up and stretched, brushing crumbs from his shirt. “Be ready by seven tonight if you still want to come with me. Otherwise, check that negative attitude at the door, Mr. Hamilton,” he added playfully.

Alexander huffed, annoyed, and sat down on the edge of his bed.


	2. Chapter 2

The bar was predictably crowded, Aaron noticed, making his way deftly between two sets of arguing couples. He held two drinks, one for himself and one for (he’d never call him this out loud) his wing man Matt—his cousin insisted on wearing the ugliest of yellow shirts and was starting to get looks—and Aaron swiveled his hips this way and that in order to avoid hitting tables. He reached the end of the bar, where his cousin had already started absentmindedly tearing napkins.

“What did you bring me?” Matt threw several scraps to the ground.

“I don’t know. The house special.” Aaron plopped down on the stool next to him, after brushing off some shards of paper. Matt looked at the drink warily.

“Well what is it?”

“I don’t know,” Aaron reiterated, “And why are you acting so nervous, anyway? Stop tearing napkins apart and start talking to people.”

“I haven’t been to a bar in a long time.”

“It’s been like, one month. That’s not a long time. Even Jemmy doesn’t have as big a problem as you,” Aaron added, laughing into his drink. “Get a few shots into that kid and he’ll be the raunchiest guy here.”

Matt tested his own drink, made a face, and said, “He’s probably better at this than me. Anyone’s better at this than me. This place is way too crowded..”

Aaron chuckled again, gaze drifting from his yellow-shirted friend to the patrons of the bar. Dancing happily, the other people were oblivious to the thoughts inside his head that plagued him ever since his conversation with Matt. He could never quite shake the feeling that something was missing, something alive, and it put him on the edge. The music pounded on, mixing with his heartbeat, and Aaron sipped the last of his drink.

“Well look who we have here,” Matt nudged his friend, breaking him from his thoughts, “isn’t that old Bobby Troup? And Alexander? I didn’t know they came to this bar. I didn’t know they could afford it.”

“What?”

“Over there, they just walked in,” Matt inclined his head a little too obviously, and Aaron checked him.

“Would you stop that? Don’t be so obvious,” he grabbed a handful of the yellow fabric despairingly, “although with this ridiculous get up you might as well be wearing a sign—”

“I don’t even think they saw me.” Matt finished his own drink, and then, “And even if they did, what are they going to do? Come over here and start a fight?”

Aaron swiveled on his bar stool uncomfortably, trying to remember some of the things he might have told Jemmy. He knew Alexander was friendly with him, Aaron silently chastised himself, why did he allow himself to say those things? Why did he speak up?

“Bobby won’t, but Alexander will,” Aaron muttered.

“Will he? What’s he got to say to you?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know. He’s got this ridiculous...” Aaron scanned the bar, searched for the word, “... _ obsession _ with me. He thinks I’m not cut out for law school or something. That I’ll  _ besmirch  _ the revered New York Bar or some other dumb bullshit. I think he’s looking out for Jemmy, too, but I don’t know. I really don’t, Matt.”

Matt tapped his hand rapidly against the dark wood in front of him.

“Well you better figure it out quickly,” he whispered, lowering his head, “because he’s headed this way.”

“What—”

“—Hello Aaron,” Alexander appeared out of nowhere, Bobby, red faced and nervous, directly behind him. His bright eyes, already sparkling with spirits, scanned Matt. “Big Bird.”

“Very clever Alex. I see that shithouse school you go to finally gave you a weekend off.” Matt replied, casually. Aaron held up a hand, alarmed.

“Alright, alright. Let’s not go there,” he leaned toward Matt, “I can handle this.”

“Handle what? All I wanted was to say hello.” Alexander cut in, a little too loudly. Beside him, Bobby sighed and motioned for the bartender to pour him a shot. Alexander squeezed in next to Aaron, broad grin on his mouth. “All I wanted was to say hello to my favorite Princeton boys.”

“Here we go,” Bobby downed a shot and motioned for another.

“My two favorite Princeton boys,” Alexander repeated, leaning against the bar, reeking slightly of alcohol, “well, maybe I have three. I wish Jemmy were here.”

“Alexander what do you want?” Matt tapped him on the back, irritated. Aaron shook his head quickly, but not quickly enough.

“I just want to have a little discussion with Mr. Burr here,” Alexander patted him on the head, “about spreading gossip.”

Aaron raised his voice, “Me? You want to talk to  _ me  _ about spreading gossip?”

“Indeed I do, indeed I do.”

Aaron felt his temper flare.

“Alright, fine. Here I am. Let’s go.” Suddenly the bar felt smaller—and much less crowded. As if, in fact, there were no other two people in it. Bobby cut in.

“Just hold on,” he raised a hand, silencing the other three, “everybody just calm down for a damned second.”

Matt coughed into his sleeve, muttering something incoherent and cruel. Alexander shot him a look and Aaron kicked him under the table.

“If you two need to talk, do it outside. Away from here. Don’t make a damn scene,” Bobby swore for the second time, “because I don’t feel like dealing with the authorities tonight after someone calls the cops during a drunken bar brawl.”

“I would never fight in a bar, Bobby, I have class,” Aaron responded, a little too smugly.

“I can just drag you outside and kick your ass there, if everyone’s in agreement,” Alexander shot back, cheeks burning.

Aaron widened his eyes mockingly, “Sounds like a date!”

Alexander made a quick lunging move before Bobby grabbed his shirt to hold him back.

“Down boy,” Matt murmured, sipping a new drink and chuckling.

“Are you capable of holding a mature conversation, Alex,” Aaron asked, voice raised in embarrassment, “Or is this going to turn into a high school fist fight as soon as we step outside those doors?”

“That depends on you.”

Aaron stood up quickly, causing Alexander to instinctively flinch.

“If all you’ve got for me are stupid jibes, then I’m done here.” Bobby and Matt watched him warily. Alexander grabbed his shoulder.

“I’m not done,” he said through gritted teeth, “we are getting to the bottom of this tonight. Let’s go. Outside, right now.”

“I’m not going to fight you, Alexander.” Aaron shook him off while Matt began tearing another napkin. Alexander cleared his throat.

“I think we can both be gentlemen about this, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“As long as you don’t try and hit below the belt?”

Aaron’s heart rate increased and he stepped forward, “Alexander, I swear to God—”

“—Outside.” Bobby took the pause in conversation as an opportunity to cut in and push each man gently towards the exit.

\--------

Aaron lit a cigarette, the flame in his cupped hand reflected in his dark eyes.

“Alright. Talk.”

The other man, standing defensively with a hand on his hip, cocked his head to the side, “Really? You think  _ I’m _ the one who owes an explanation?” His voice rose. “When you’re the one walking around talking about—”

“—Did you come out here to scold me like you’re my fuckign mother? It’s cold.”

“You are  _ unbelievable _ ,” Alexander shot back, barely containing his anger. He lowered his voice again, this time to an irritated whisper, “did you think Jemmy wouldn’t tell me what you told him? About me?”

Aaron took the cigarette from his mouth and blew a cloud of smoke in the opposite direction; stared his opponent down.

“I don’t care what he told you,” he began icily, “because I know what you’ve been saying around my back, too. And it’s  _ much  _ worse.”

Alexander straightened his back and inhaled, cheeks burning even in the crisp night air, “Oh?”

Aaron bared his teeth. “Yeah. _ ‘Oh’ _ ”, he sneered, “did you think it wouldn’t come back to haunt you? You can’t just go around calling people dangerous and discrediting their name. That’s called slander. Or do they not teach you that at Columbia?”

“You have absolutely no room to talk here. I only said what I said in response to the rumors I heard about myself,” Alexander’s eyes flashed as he realized he was losing Aaron’s interest, “the rumors that I traced back to  _ you.” _

The dark-eyed boy casually tossed his cigarette into a flower bed nearby. “And so what, Alex? So people talk. Everyone knows about you and that Laurens kid. It’s not a goddamn secret.”

Alexander’s countenance turned dark. Fists clenched, he spat, “It’s still private to  _ me.” _

Aaron turned to him, expression sardonic. Before he could cut in, Alexander finished his thought with a pointed finger.

“It’s still private to me, and you have no right to talk about things you will never understand. I don’t care if you think the entire east coast knows my sexual history,” at this, Aaron covered his eyes and choked back a laugh, “it doesn’t give you the right to…to… _ sermonize _ -”

“ _ —Sermonize?” _

“ _ You heard me!”  _ At this, Alexander raised his voice, drawing the attentions of several passers-by. Collecting himself with a deep breath, he went on, “You heard me. You are walking around spreading shit about me to my friends and I want it to stop.”

“I’ll stop if you stop.”

Alexander clenched a fist.

“I’ll stop if you stop,” Aaron reiterated, “if you admit to me right here, right now, what you said about  _ me _ behind  _ my _ back. And apologize.”

“I don’t believe this.”

“Believe it.”

Alexander reached up to run a hand through his hair in frustration, and his eyes shut tightly in embarrassing recollection.

“I don’t remember everything I said,” Alexander finally responded.

“Yes you do. You don’t forget anything.” Aaron found a railing and leaned on it.

“Fine. I said…I think I said something along the lines of…that…you’re a…”

“Spit it out.”

Alexander shot him a withering glance, “I said you were a sexual deviant, and not to be trusted as a true friend. There. Are you happy?”

“Exuberant.”

Alexander clapped his hands together, “Good. Fine. Well then. Now that that’s over with—”

“—Uh huh,” Aaron grabbed him by the shoulder as he began to make his way back to the bar, “we’re not done here. I want you to promise me you’ll never say that sort of thing about me again.”

“That wasn’t part of the deal,” Alexander hissed. He shook the other man’s hand off of him, annoyed.

“I thought it was self-explanatory,” Aaron reasoned.

Alexander threw his hands in the air, an act of frustration. “You can’t make me promise something like that! What if you do something shady somewhere along the line? What if I’m right, and you do something terrible—something that puts  _ my friend  _ Jemmy in danger—and I’ve got to help him? I can’t make that promise.”

Aaron laughed, unsure how to react.

“Then cross that bridge when you get there,” he put his hands on the other boy’s shoulders and faced him, “if I do something terrible, I give you absolute authority to rake me over the coals.”

Alexander eyed him warily, “Is this a joke? Are you mocking me right now?”

“I am as serious as sin.”

Alexander tugged at his loosened tie and inhaled to catch his breath. Finally, he met the gaze across from him, thoughts swirling and spinning inside his rapid mind.

“Fine,” he breathed, gaining confidence, “I will hold you to your word. If you act out and put Jemmy’s—or  _ any  _ of our friends, really—future in danger, you will have me to deal with.”

“And vice versa?” Aaron asked, hopefully.

Alexander bit the inside of his mouth, “Yes. Vice-versa.”

“Now, are you ready to go back into the bar and play nice?”

“If  _ I’m  _ ready to play nice, he says,” Alexander muttered to himself, looking down and shaking his head in disbelief, “Unbelievable.  _ Unbelievable _ .”

“Look, Alex, I said I was sorry,” Aaron began again, irritated, “I don’t know what else you want me to do. I assumed everyone knew about you and Laurens—”

“—Stop saying that name.”

Aaron pulled out another cigarette and took a long, thoughtful drag. He rearranged himself so that he leaned over the railing that was once behind him. His elbows touching the hard metal, Aaron realized how cold it had gotten.

“You  _ do  _ know that I’m not the only person who knows, right.”

Alexander shut his eyes, skin burning, “I would like to think that some things are still sacred, even in this Godforsaken city.”

Aaron let out an involuntary laugh, “You almost sound like my uncle.”

Alexander turned his head slightly, curious. Aaron continued, dropping his voice an octave in an impression of his guardian.

“ _ ‘You never know what kind of awful people you’ll run into, Aaron, and you were always a graceless child.'”  _ Another drag; slim fingers dropped down once again. “He’s a riot.”

Alexander faced the other man fully, now, brows still furrowed, “He said that to you?”

“Right before I left for school, yes. Uncle Timothy never let me forget what a good man he was, how selfless he was, for taking in an orphaned little shit like me and giving me every opportunity in the known universe.” Aaron’s voice grew bitter and he wondered what it was about Alexander that made him so free with his thoughts.

“Excuse me if I’m getting this wrong,” Alexander began, “but isn’t your family one of the wealthiest in New England? I mean besides the Adamses? Or the Hancocks. You should be grateful, Aaron.”

“Now  _ you’re _ the one sermonizing.”

“I’m serious,” Alexander couldn’t help himself, “I hate people like you. Spoiled rotten, given every advantage, thinking they are entitled to the world—”

Aaron raised himself up off his elbows and stuck the cigarette in his mouth, eyes widened.

“—And yet still,  _ still  _ you people find things to complain about. Ways to be unhappy. You have no idea what true misery is like.”

As Aaron stood speechless, Alexander recalled his own tragedies, “At least you had a place to  _ go.  _ At least you had people willing to take you in and give you shelter. I had  _ no one.”  _ He straightened out his posture. “Everything I have I had to earn. Alone.”

“Wait just a goddamn minute. You and I both know that is a lie.”

“What?”

“If it wasn’t for my family acknowledging you as their little charity case you wouldn’t even be here. Don’t you dare play that card. You had help.” Aaron felt himself crush the cigarette between his fingers and even in the black, chilly night air, felt his temper burn hot. He pointed at Alexander. “I know you. I’ve known you since you were fourteen. Don’t give me that shit.”

For a moment, Alexander stood speechless, mouth opening and closing, searching for a defense.

“I never  _ asked _ to be anyone’s charity case,” he fired back, “your family noticed me because I worked my  _ ass  _ off. I studied  _ every day _ to get off that fucking island. I don’t owe you anything.” He swatted Aaron’s finger away.

Aaron let out a sarcastic laugh, “Are you kidding me? Are you  _ kidding _ me?”

“I’m  _ not _ kidding you. I don’t owe you  _ anything, _ you entitled little shit—”

“ _ Tragedy isn’t measured by wealth,  _ Alexander,” Aaron said, cutting him off. He waved a hand up, cigarette between thin fingers, “I could have been the fucking prince of Wales. Money doesn’t automatically make your life picture-perfect. My uncle had ten other children to raise. Do you think he wanted a little shit like me hanging around? He didn’t ask for that. And he never let me forget it. Ever. Don’t you  _ dare  _ lump me in with them, because they  _ never  _ considered me one of their own.”

Alexander gritted his teeth, pulse quickening in rage.

“You are ungrateful,” he managed, thoughts getting tied up before they could make it out of his mouth, “you wouldn’t last two seconds in my position, what I was reduced to, what I had to witness—”

“—I’m done with this conversation. I’m not going to compete with you for ‘World’s Most Tragic Life’. You’re a slutty little boy who got caught trying to screw himself stupid and you’re embarrassed. Get over it.”

Before Aaron could bring the cigarette back to his mouth he felt Alexander’s clenched fist across his cheekbone, and he grabbed the railing to keep from falling to the concrete ground. As Alexander prepared himself for another swing, Aaron picked himself up and caught the fist deftly.

“Don’t you  _ dare—”  _ Aaron threw a punch of his own, landing it directly into Alexander’s gut. The latter man doubled over, coughed, and swore.

“Fine,  _ fine,” _ Alexander wheezed, clutching his stomach.

“If you want to do this, I’m game,” Aaron spat, hand still balled into a fist. Somewhere in the back of Aaron’s mind, he reminded himself that this was no way to act. Several sharp breaths later, he lowered his hand. After a moment, Alexander stood upright, still breathing heavily.

“I’m not going to fucking fight you. It’s not worth it,” Aaron said quietly, nursing his pride, and his face.

“Because you know you’d lose,” Alexander challenged.

“No, Alexander, it’s because it’s childish.”

“I will stand out here all night and defend myself, if that’s what it takes. Do you understand me?” Alexander pointed again in the direction of the other boy, “Don’t you dare insult me like that again. It will be the last thing you do.”

“Oh give it a rest already. I’m not scared of you.” Aaron raised his voice and faced Alexander defiantly. “You’re not going to intimidate me that easily, Alex. I’m not Troup. I’m not one of your little disciples you can bully into submission.”

“ _ I don’t bully.” _

“You do. And you are. You’re a bully. An angry little bully who wants everyone to play by his rules,” Aaron talked over the other man, who had opened his mouth to speak in his defense, “even little Jemmy. He won’t stand up to you, but I will.”

“You called me a slut, and  _ I’m  _ the bad guy?”

“I can’t have this conversation anymore. I’m done.”Aaron let out another bitter laugh, thought for a moment. “We both got our hits in. I’m calling it a draw.”

“I still want an apology.”

“I’m sorry I called you a slut,” Aaron responded, monotone. Alexander swallowed.

“And I’m sorry…” he began, almost inaudibly, “…for what I said about you and your family.”

“Yes, the family thing, too. I’m sorry about what I said.” Still Aaron looked down onto the ground, cigarette hanging loosely from his fingers. He took a lazy drag to calm his nerves and touched his face.

“I bet you’ve been wanting to do that for a long time.”

“Do what?”

“Get a good punch in.” As his fingertips grazed the purple mark under his eye, Aaron winced.

“It’s crossed my mind, yeah. Someone had to put you in your place,” Alexander answered coldly. “I’ve been trying to find the right moment. I saw it and acted. Now you know what to expect when you mess with me.”

“Good Lord.”

“I don’t walk away from a fight, Aaron. I never have. Remember that.”

Aaron crushed the butt of his cigarette under expensive shoes, muttered, “a hard lesson to learn.”

The two students grew quiet for a minute, listening to the din of the bar-goers echo into the night air from their position in the parking lot. Several people turned and looked at them, interested in the brief scene of violence, then, realizing it was over, continued on their way. The night grew colder by the second and Aaron could not distinguish between the smoke from his cigarette and the icy breaths escaping his mouth. His fingers began to grow numb.

“Perhaps the cold air will help the swelling on my face,” he began, trying to lighten the situation. Next to him, Alexander scoffed, still unready to give up the fight.

“You’ll be fine. Don’t dwell on it.” He kicked a stone. “I’m so humiliated. I want to leave this school.”

Aaron rolled his eyes, sure that his companion couldn’t see him.

“Would you please stop being so dramatic? No one cares about who you sleep with.”

“It’s not that,” Alexander  began, turning to face the other student, “it’s everything. I don’t belong here.”

Alexander thought for a moment, intent, and blinked once. “What if you’re right? What if it  _ was  _ all due to luck that I was able to get here and I don’t really deserve it?”

Aaron put his head down against the railing, exasperated, “What are you  _ saying _ ? Just a moment ago you were convinced that you earned everything fairly.”

“Never mind. Just forget I even brought it up again. I shouldn’t be talking to you about this anyway.”

Aaron shook his head, no, and took another drag on his cigarette.

“I wish Jemmy were here,” Alexander proceeded to speak against his better judgment. 

Aaron stopped trying to understand and silently stared straight ahead while his companion fidgeted uncomfortably. 

“I can tell him anything and he always gives me the best advice. I wanted to study with him and now he’s not here. You know, the other day, he texted me and told me he was getting too distracted, living in New Jersey? He doesn’t like going into the City. He gets nervous.”

“I was always under the impression Jemmy liked parties, at least after he had a few drinks,” Aaron responded, bored. He thought about Matt, still inside the bar, no doubt listening to Bobby regale inane stories about late assignments and group projects. 

“He says this city is too much of a distraction,” Alexander pressed on, getting to his point, “and now I think I know why.”

Aaron puffed out—white smoke mingling with white breath—and Alexander pause for the effect he desired.

“It’s  _ us _ ,” Alexander finished neatly.

Aaron rubbed his eyes, “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I am not being ridiculous. He’s distancing himself from me and I can feel it. I don’t know what I did to deserve this, other than getting tangled up in a failed relationship and stupid gossip.” Alexander absentmindedly flung a hand in Aaron’s direction, who looked at it and made a face.

Offended, Aaron retorted, “Probably because you’re becoming a liability.” His eye still stung.

“Shut up. Just  _ shut up.” _

“You said it yourself, Alexander,” Aaron spoke up more confidently, “he’s drifting away from you. Drama follows you like—“

“—Flies to crap. I know.”

“Well I wouldn’t have said it like  _ that, _ but yeah. You get the picture.” For a moment, Aaron considered laughing at the childish expression, but the defeated, worried look on Alexander’s face told him otherwise. For a moment, he felt guilty.

“I can’t let you take  _ all _ the blame for this,” Aaron added.

“It was a group effort.” Alexander sighed again, scratched his head. “I just care about him. I worry, too. About his health, his well-being. That sort of thing.”

“He’s lonely, Alexander. I can tell you that.”

Alexander looked up, alarmed, “Even with all the people you know? All the parties you throw?”

“He says he’s always studying, and that he’s too busy for stuff like that. I’ve tried to break him out of his shell—believe me, I’ve tried everything—but it’s a vicious cycle. He’ll squeak out a hello or two at a party, something will happen to make him think people are laughing at him, and then he’ll retreat back into his shell, terrified. And the more it happens, the harder it is to convince him the effort is worth it.” Aaron looked up at the sky, marveled at the stars for a brief second, and then, “That’s when I usually give him a couple drinks to loosen him up. It works, but he always gets so  _ sick  _ the next day. And I feel bad.”

Alexander took a moment to process the information, gazing unfocused at the space in front of him. He put his head down on the railing again, exhaled mournfully, and then spoke.

“At least we have this in common.”

Finally, Aaron let out a small chuckle.

“Maybe the little guy is more important than he knows.”

“Can you make me a promise?” Alexander began, slowly, turning to face his companion. “I mean, are you morally, spiritually, physically capable of making a promise to someone?”

Aaron’s face split into a grin and he tossed his cigarette away, “With charm like that, how could I  _ ever _ be angry with you?”

“I am being serious, Aaron. This is about Jemmy.”

“Fire away.”

“I would like us to maintain, at least, outward cordiality. When Jemmy is around. Just so his nerves get a chance to settle and he doesn’t feel like he has to choose.”

Aaron looked up again, pondering the proposal, and nodded, “I’d say that’s a simple promise to keep. But I think you’re a little late on the drawl, though.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Alexander asked.

“I mean I think it’s too late for us to try and salvage any kind of close relationship between you and I and Jemmy. From what I understand, he’s moving to Virginia as soon as he graduates and practicing there.”

Alexander felt as though a bomb exploded; the new information hit him, physically, first in his fingertips and then in his chest.

“He’s  _ what?” _ Alexander cocked his head to the side and tried to find Aaron’s gaze, which had drifted off to the sky again. “When was someone planning on telling me this?”

Aaron merely shrugged; Alexander’s breaths quickened.

“He…he made it seem like he’d always be  _ here _ . We might even work together.” Rapidly, his eyes scanned the scene around them, “When…when did he tell you this? Is it because of me? Is it because of all the fighting?”

“I don’t know,” Aaron shrugged again.

“Well why didn’t you ask?” Alexander shouted, shoving his companion on the shoulder to get his attention. A couple walking past the arguing students into the bar snickered and quickened their pace.

“Would you stop making a goddamn scene?” Aaron retorted. “I didn’t ask because it’s none of my business where he moves to. He might have said something about already knowing people down there. And that the pace was slower, and he had better opportunities. Why people  _ usually _ move,” He added icily.

Alexander chewed on the thought for a moment, and then, just as quickly, turned on his heel and headed back inside without saying another word.

Aaron’s eyes followed him until the light in the doorway of the bar swallowed him whole.

 


	3. Chapter 3

Aaron was not a chain-smoker, but quickly lit another cigarette to calm his nerves. He had lost his desire to drink and socialize and for the moment would rather keep company with the still, cold night.

“So you’re not going to follow him, then.” The female voice carried over the chatter from inside the building over to where Aaron stood—a statement rather than a question.

Before Aaron could make out who had spoken, the beautiful Dolley Payne made her way over to him, seemingly an apparition appearing when he needed it most.

“How did you—I didn’t know you came to the City—?” He began, stunned to see an old friend. She reached out and hugged him, laughing.

“I don’t, usually. But Philadelphia gets old after a while,” she smiled. Aaron held back a chuckle.

“Don’t tell me you’ve outgrown the nightlife  _ already _ .”

“Oh I don’t know,” she continued, wrapping herself tighter in a slightly frayed coat, “I’ve heard so many great things about New York, I thought I’d come see for myself. Everyone always talks about this bar,” she motioned towards the building behind her, “the ‘Holy Ground’. I had to come see for myself. It sounds so  _ dangerous _ and  _ exciting.” _

“Uh huh. And do you want to explain to me how a twenty year old managed to get into a bar in the first place?”

Dolley flashed a red smile, bearing white teeth and a small dimple on her left cheek, and held up a fake I.D.

“Don’t ask me to tell you where I got it, though. Because I won’t.” She added, still grinning.

Aaron grabbed it and observed the craftsmanship; nodded approvingly.

“I would have done the same thing. I don’t care for Philadelphia.” Aaron affected an air of pretend snobbery, and his female companion hit him playfully on the arm.

“It’s not  _ that _ bad. It’s just that all the action seems to happen here.” She straightened out her shirt, and then, “I told myself I’d buy a bus ticket and spend the weekend here with some friends from high school. Everyone told me to come here and mingle with you Ivy-Leaguers. And so here I am.”

Aaron rubbed his eyes, amused. “You happened upon a very exciting night.”

“Apparently.” She twisted her frame to lean her back against the railing and swept a piece of curling dark hair from her eyes, “Was that Alexander Hamilton?”

“Unfortunately.”

“Hmph.” Dolley smiled again and craned her neck to see the bruise forming on Aaron’s face. “Seemed a little upset about something.”

“It’s always something,” Aaron inhaled again, and exhaled smoke. Casually, his female companion took the cigarette from his mouth and put it in hers.

“It’s always something with him. This time it’s about Jemmy. You know Jemmy.” 

“The short one who’s always sick.” She blew smoke pensively.

“That’s him,” Aaron responded, taking his cigarette back and finishing it up. “He—Alexander, I mean—is afraid that we’re all pushing him away. That we cultivate too much drama and that’s why Jemmy’s moving to Virginia as soon as he graduates.”

Dolley crushed a leaf under her heel, still listening intently.

“Alexander actually thinks…” Aaron looked down, bemused, and giggled, “…Alexander actually thinks this is a personal insult towards him. Insists they were the best of friends until Jemmy started rooming with me, and I became a bad influence on him.”

“You’re a bad influence on everyone,” the curvaceous girl replied, matter-of-factly. She remembered the dark-eyed boy of several months ago who managed to finagle a free stay at her mother’s bed and breakfast—and Dolley refused to put the pieces, or what she  _ thought _ were the pieces, together.

“But if there’s one person who can resist bad influences, it’s Jemmy,” Aaron said, slightly hurt.

“I wouldn’t know. Never met the guy. But I already feel bad for him.”

For a moment, Aaron watched as his last cigarette died, embers burning out, on the sidewalk. Then, in a quick burst of cunning, an unguarded though escaped his mouth.

“He’s been talking about how he wants to meet someone and start a relationship. A real one. With a girl who’s not wrapped up in our drama,” he added as a creative and appropriate afterthought. Dolley turned her head and looked at him.

“Well he’s not going to find her in Virginia,” she spoke up, wryly, “Southern Hospitality my ass. I couldn’t wait to leave.”

“Dolley…”

“I mean, don’t get me wrong, Virginia’s a lovely place. With some lovely people. I shouldn’t be so harsh. But there’s  _ more _ to the world than being a good wife and mother and keeping your opinions bottled up—“

_ “Dolley,” _ Aaron began again, placing a hand on her arm.

“For instance, the last guy I dated started to develop a nasty alcohol habit. He was only twenty-two, for Christ’s sake. Not that that’s indicative of Virginia alone, mind you, it’s just that everyone’s so small minded and—“

“—Dolley!”

He grabbed her arm, laughing and marveling at the world-weary young woman.

“What?” She responded, smiling in spite of herself. “Look, Aaron, I may be young, but I’m very experienced in certain things and I can tell you that your friend Jemmy is going to have a tough time down there if he can’t even handle himself in a group of friends. Let alone strangers.”

“I know that Dolley, and that’s why I think you should introduce yourself to him.” Aaron’s mind worked quickly, watching the expressions play out on his friend’s face. “You would like him.”

“Oh,  _ don’t _ —“ the brunette began to laugh and look away.

“I’m serious. You would like him. He’s the perfect type for you. You know Virginia as well as anyone and I can’t think of a better companion for a recent male transplant—“

“—Listen, buddy,” she held up a finger, reasserting her gaze, a tinge of insult behind the mirth, “let me stop you right there before this gets any more demeaning. I’m not some hooker you can pawn off onto your lonely friends so that you and Hamilton don’t have to feel guilty any more about being dickheads to each other. What am I supposed to be, a distraction?”

Her smile, though still affixed to her face, grew colder. Aaron immediately backtracked.

“That’s…of course not. No, you’re right.” He held up a hand and thought quickly. “I simply meant that he expressed interest in you and—“

“—Wait, what? He’s never even  _ met _ me.”

“I, ah,” Aaron’s mouth grew dry and he lied quickly, “I showed him a picture.”

Dolley narrowed her eyes, searching the dark-eyed boy’s pale, collected face, “And just what the  _ hell _ were you doing with a picture of me?”

“It was from summer. When I stayed at your mother’s place that weekend, visiting friends in Philly.” He desperately wished for another cigarette but knew the nervous habit would give him away.

“Hm.” The brunette looked away, recalling the visit. “I don’t remember taking any pictures.” She paused and searched the ground for more leaves to crush. Still unsure, she responded, “But if you say so.”

Aaron swallowed and exhaled.

“I don’t know how I feel about guys wanting to meet me based on a  _ picture _ ,” she added warily.

“Oh, believe me, Dolley, Jemmy isn’t that type of man.” Finally, Aaron breathed easy, settling back on truths. “He’s very timid. He won’t try anything with you. If it makes you feel any better, I’m ninety-six percent sure he’s still a virgin.”

Dolley collapsed tilted her head back and laughed into the night air, “Oh for God’s  _ sake _ , Aaron.”

“Just meet him. Just promise me you’ll meet him when you go back to Virginia, to visit friends or whatever. Just a little dinner.” He bit his lip, and then added, “He would really like to meet you.”

“And you’re sure he’s alright, you know, not a creep.”

“On my honor.”

“Oh, your blessed honor.” The brunette pursed her lips sarcastically.

“Shake my hand, now,” Aaron pressed, holding out an arm. Dolley looked at it for a moment and then shook, slowly at first and then with more vigor. For a fleeting second, Aaron pretended his bachelor friend’s problems—and by extension his own—were solved.

\--------

Alexander prepared for another holiday alone.

He looked around his dorm, half empty since Bobby had left several days previous, and sighed.

“It’s only Thanksgiving,” he reasoned out loud, “Not even a big holiday. You’ll be alright.”  

Outside, through the small, dingy window, he saw the bleak November afternoon close in. Bobby’s bed, devoid of sheets and pillows, left Alexander with a strange, hollow feeling in his chest. He sat down on his own mattress and thought about the previous weeks’ events.

The springs squeaked as they gave way to his weight, and he put a hand out to steady himself. His own possessions, scattered around the floor haphazardly, reminded him of how small his place in the world really was.

A collection of clothes that would fill up one large suitcase and three pairs of shoes (dress, sneakers, sandals) huddled in the corner had begun to smell. Alexander absentmindedly stuck his free hand into his pocket, feeling for change.

“Eight dollars to do a single load of laundry,” he despaired. Usually, Bobby offered to pay. This week, the orphaned student wasn’t so lucky.

Every holiday was the same. The buildup, usually a week before, centered around thousands of students happily chattering about their plans. Family dinners, vacations, a restful week with proud parents, visiting old cousins—all part of the din of conversation circling around his head. Alexander always grew unnaturally quiet when people talked about family. The college was his family. Privately, he hated hearing about other peoples’ lives. Publicly, he lied, with characteristic blush, that having a week to himself alone in the dorm would be a  _ pleasure _ , would be a  _ nice change _ . It wasn’t, but Alexander tried to make the best of it.

The usual hang outs in the City would be empty. He could go and have a drink, if he wanted, without having to worry about running into—

“Fucking Aaron,” he muttered, throwing a piece of crumpled paper across the room. He exhaled, thinking about their conversation of last month. The smug look on his face when Alexander admitted to being embarrassed. The casualness with which the spoiled little shit brought up Alexander’s past, with John, as if it meant nothing, as if it didn’t humiliate him further. He decided to hate Burr, and that was that.

Alexander stood up from the bed and walked aimlessly around his dorm, wishing for suitable company. Jemmy had gone to Virginia, as planned. That particular betrayal stung hardest of all. Alexander imaged the tiny little genius with his new friends, having a wonderful, stress-free time, enjoying his probable future home, and kicked a shoe. It skidded across the floor and slammed into a wall, leaving a mark.

He stared at the scuff for a moment, and then felt his phone vibrate. Checking it, Alexander furrowed his eyebrows in confusion at the unknown number.

_ I’m still in pain. I should sue you. _

Alexander shook his head and began to type, “I think you have the wrong number. I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m sorry.”

Seconds later, the reply.

_ You mean you DON’T have my number? I have yours. _

Alexander’s heart began to race, remembering with distinct, paranoid clarity the number of horror films that he’d seen, that started out similarly.

“Who is this?” He typed up a response quickly, then stared at the phone.

_ Guess. _

“You’re wasting my time. I don’t have unlimited texting. Just tell me.” It was true, Alexander thought ruefully. He’d had to opt for pay-as-you-go, no contract phone. It was cheaper.

_ It’s Aaron. And I should have known you’d have a burner, you cheapskate. _

Alexander smiled bitterly, suddenly tasting metal. And then, “How did you get my number?”

_ Oh, so now you want to talk? I though revealing myself would have the opposite reaction. _

This time, Alexander didn’t answer, but rather stared at the snide reply. He hated himself for always feeling duped whenever Aaron was involved, no matter how innocuous the situation.

“I can only assume Jemmy gave it to you without my permission. What do you want?”

_ We never finished our conversation last month. _

“And it took you this long to get back to me?”

A solid minute went by before Alexander received an answer.

_ Every time I chew, I can feel my jaw pop. I ALWAYS think of you! _

Even in a text, devoid of sentiment or inflection, Alexander could hear the sarcasm. Despite himself, he grinned again.

“Good. I hope it plagues you for the rest of your life.”

_ An eternal reminder of my sins. _

Alexander’s countenance darkened, and he returned to business, “What do you want?”

_ I have to talk to you About Jemmy. I think I know how to help him. But I also think I need your approval. _

Alexander nodded to himself. Naturally, he would be willing to help his little friend, if it meant getting him back to New York City. Or even New Jersey. He looked around him, forlornly, once again. There was no escaping the fact that for the next week he’d have nothing occupying his thoughts other than his own increasing estrangement from his peers. A Wednesday, a Thursday, a Friday, an entire weekend and the two days following—Alexander eyed his calendar and counted off the days—to let his mind eat him alive.

“Where were you thinking about meeting?”

He decided to get it over with. Alexander placed his phone on the nightstand next to his bed and laid back, staring at the ceiling. If he could find one small sliver of common ground with the irritating little yuppie then perhaps all was not lost. And, perhaps, Burr truly  _ had _ found something positive for the increasingly uptight Jemmy. Three minutes passed as Alexander lay on his bed, making faces out of the spackle on his ceiling, when he heard his phone vibrate.

_ I will be in the city tomorrow afternoon, running errands. Meet me at Holy Ground at 4pm. You know, the bar where we beat the shit out of each other. _

\--------

Alexander tried to remember when he’d begun biting his nails. It wasn’t a habit he’d had as a child, nor was it something he consciously intended to do. But every time he found himself faced with a particularly drastic challenge, he felt his fingers travel up to his mouth.

He sat at the edge of the bar, aware of how his clothes were not washed, chewing a hangnail. The lukewarm drink in front of him made his stomach churn and the early evening crowd had begun to filter away; the night-owls came out slowly. A short woman turned and smiled at him cautiously, and as he nodded politely in her direction, Alexander saw a small ink stain on the cuff of his wrinkled shirt. His smile faded, dismayed.

“I was so sure you wouldn’t show.”

Alexander felt a presence behind him and turned quickly, coming face to face with a polite visage framed by delicate eyebrows.

“I didn’t have any plans this afternoon. I figured the mature thing to do would be to come and hear you out.”

Aaron motioned for the bartender to bring him whatever his companion was having. As he sipped, he made a face.

“Atrocious. Really atrocious.”

Alexander scoffed, slightly insulted, “Why do you even come to this place if you hate it so much?”

Aaron placed a palm flat against the bar, “Neutral zone.” He took another sip and grimaced as it went down. “I need to be drunk to do this. I mean really, truly drunk.”

Alexander smoothed his shirt out and rolled up his sleeves, his own wrinkled clothes standing out even more against the clean, pressed lines of his companion’s expensive outfit. Hiding the ink stain deftly, he went on, “What do you need to be drunk to do? Apologize to me?”

“I’m going to ignore that.”

“Then what is it?”

“Well, yes, an apology, I suppose,” Aaron finished his drink, “and a bit of a favor.”

Alexander bit his lip and sipped his own drink, catching the setting sun out of the corner of his eye. In the corner, an updated version of a jukebox played a cheesy synth-hit from the 80’s while an oblivious couple danced as if no one were watching. The music seemed to pulsate, louder by the second.

“What do you need?”

“I’ve decided to hook Jemmy up with someone. A female someone. I think he needs companionship.”

Alexander felt his drink go down his throat in a lump and it made his eyes water. Someone at the back of the bar shrieked and laughed; someone else shouted an obscenity.

“You  _ what?” _

Aaron leaned in, and Alexander watched as the dim lights flashed off his watch.

“Her name is Dolley. She’s a couple years younger than us. I’ve known her for a while, and her mother,” Aaron cleared his throat, paused for effect. Alexander closed his eyes and tried to remember the words to the song. “And I think she’s a good match for him. She’ll get him out of his shell.”

Alexander looked over at the other student, who smiled, expecting praise.

“Great. Wonderful. Good job, Aaron,” he finished, hollow. “I still don’t know what I have to do with any of this.”

“When he comes back from Virginia, I want you to show him some support. I want you to make him feel special.” Aaron looked around at the patrons, gaze settling on the dancing couple, and then back to Alexander. 

“He needs to feel like he has a chance with this girl. Like he’s…you know. A big shot. Boost his confidence.”

“Don’t tell me how to treat  _ my _ friends, Burr.”

“You’ve been doing a pretty shit job,” Aaron retorted, “You’re probably the reason he wants out of this godforsaken city.”

Alexander turned his stare back to Aaron, who wore a look of triumph, “ _ Excuse _ me?”

“What are you doing this week?”

Alexander closed his eyes and laughed, “No, no, no. Don’t change the subject. Why am  _ I _ the reason he’s leaving? You’re his roommate. You’re the one he has to deal with all the time, coming and going at weird hours. Sleeping around.”

“You have no idea. Actually, since he was going to be gone this whole week, I was planning of bringing back a whole bunch of women. Two or three a night, probably.” Aaron nodded to himself. “Yes. That was the plan for the holidays. You?”

Alexander watched him, unsure whether to be amused or disgusted, as he pulled the requisite cigarette from his pocket and lit it. The flame reflected in Aaron’s eyes as he waited for Alexander’s response.

“I…well, I…” he began, “How can I beat  _ that?”  _ The sharp scent of smoke hit him briefly, then faded into the atmosphere around him.

“Come on. What are your plans?”

“I haven’t got any, really.” He knew the day would come when someone would ask him, but it still burned.

“Me neither,” Aaron concluded truthfully. “My Uncle is mad at me for…something. I haven’t got the slightest clue what. And told me I’d have to get my grades up before I show my face in his house again.” He deepened his voice, took the cigarette out of his mouth, and frowned _ , “You can’t live here on my bill and go to school on my dime and squander every opportunity your parents gave you to make them proud and still expect to have a place to live.” _

Aaron looked at his companion, Alexander, into the dregs of his drink.

“Oh yeah. Real rough problem you’ve got there. Relatives who care  _ too _ much.”

To his surprise, Aaron laughed, “The joke’s on him because I’ve got the keys to his dusty old beach house. I could just stay there if I wanted. I don’t need him telling me where I can and can’t stay.”

“You…you have a beach house?”

“Up in Connecticut, yeah. It’s been in the family for years. Really hideous thing, right on the water. I don’t know who decided to buy it but they made a mistake.” Aaron took a final drag on his cigarette, bored, and spoke to no one in particular, “When we were in high school in Elizabethtown I used to get the older students to drive me up there on the weekends if I promised to host parties in it.”

The memories came flooding back to Alexander rapidly: the awkward high school they’d both attended, made even worse by the blatant disparity between the haves and the have-nots, of which Alexander was indefinitely part of the latter, made him blush in the darkly lit bar. He lasted several months, holding on by a thread, until a teacher recommended an early college admission. Alexander knew Aaron, by his last name being thrown around here and there, and the ever-present, unforgettable fact that his wealthy family made it possible for Alexander to come to America in the first place. That stung the hardest.

“Some college kids would buy alcohol and we’d trash the place. The last time I hosted a party there some idiot drove my cousin’s BMW into a tree,” Aaron laughed to himself, but it was short-lived. “I fucking hate these people.”

At the swear word, Alexander shook himself out of his reverie. “Why don’t you go back? For the holidays?”

“What, by myself? Just me in that ghastly old beach house? That’s like the start of a horror movie.”

“No I mean,” Alexander waved a hand; the music in the corner pounded on, “with girls or something. Why waste your holiday at school when you have a perfectly good opportunity to get away?”

Aaron grew quiet.

“Because the whole place just reeks of them. My family. The whole thing is just a reminder of everything I hate about them. I would rather stay at school. My uncle doesn’t want me anywhere near him or his shit, anyway.”

Alexander saw an opportunity, and took it, “Well  _ I’d _ like to see it. I have nowhere to go for the week. I’m going to be bored, alone, until next Tuesday. And at the very least I’d like an opportunity to do my laundry,” he felt himself grow hot with nerves, but pressed on, sensing Aaron’s bemused stare, “Just give me the keys. I’ll keep myself occupied, and we’ll call it even.”

“Even for  _ what?” _ Aaron laughed.

“For the fight.”

“You hit me in the face! I thought that was even!”

Alexander hid a smile and scratched his cheek, “If you want me to help you out with Jemmy—“

“—Alright, alright,” Aaron held up a hand. “How’s this: you let me chaperone you in my family’s beach house, for the week, and then we’ll call it even. I’ll even do your laundry  _ for _ you.”

“I’m sorry, do I look like I need a chaperone?” Alexander finally grinned in full. “You want a favor from me, this is the price. Get me out of this city for a week and I’ll work my magic on little Jemmy. I’ll make him feel like the most important person in the entire universe. I’ll let him write all my papers.”

“And I’m telling you the stipulations. No one’s getting into that house without me. Least of all  _ you.” _

Alexander decided that he hated Burr—it was much easier to hate a person—and felt the organic grin on his mouth go rigid at the thought of spending a week with him. He raised an arm holding a half empty glass in a mock toast, and smelled the dirt on his clothes, and wondered if the smug yuppie would provide his own laundry detergent. The music switched to a less recognizable tune and Aaron chuckled. 


	4. Chapter 4

Even the  _ weather _ was more forgiving as Jemmy stepped out of the airport, blinking, into the bright sunlight. The surprising heat at a southern latitude was a welcome distraction from the chill in the air he felt, ever present, around him, back in New Jersey. The little scholar smiled and checked his watch, noticing with delight that the plane had been exactly on time. Thomas would appreciate that.

In a few moments, he saw the small white Prius pull up, silent, and the freckled face sitting in the driver’s seat smile.

“Thanks again, Thomas, for picking me up. I promise I’ll reimburse you for gas money,” Jemmy replied happily as he pushed his suitcase into the cramped back seat.

“No need, actually,” came a light southern drawl, “Did you know this vehicle gets nearly seventy miles to the gallon? Amazing.”

Jemmy nodded to himself, of course, and opened the door to the passenger’s seat.

“Regardless,” he began, buckling himself in and marveling at how clean the interior was, “you’ll have to let me at least take you out to eat, or get you a thank-you gift. I can’t tell you how relieved I am to be getting away for the week.”

“That bad, huh?” Thomas turned the wheel precisely, maneuvering them out of the airport parking lot and onto the highway. The clouds tumbled through the sky and Jemmy fished through his carry-on for his sunglasses.

“Oh, it’s not terrible. I can ignore most of it. Studying keeps me busy,” he felt his mouth go dry talking nervously to his relatively new friend.

Thomas laughed, a tiny, crystalline noise, “The weather? You can ignore the weather?”

“Oh! I thought you meant…I meant my roommate,” he found his sunglasses. A lens had popped out.

Thomas nodded solemnly, small smile still affixed to his kind, if somewhat thin, mouth. Jemmy turned to look at him for a moment, digested mentally his outdoorsy Birkenstock sandals and weak, freckled arms that probably hadn’t seen sunlight in quite some time, and grinned.

“No, I meant the weather. It’s been gorgeous here. Unnaturally warm for this time of year. Not always a good thing, though,” Thomas’ countenance darkened, “I saw a program last week about global warming.” He shook his head heavily, “Such a scary thing.”

“Oh, I agree.”

“But we’ll make it,” the Virginian put his blinker on and its precise, metronome ticking filled the silence. After a moment, Jemmy spoke up.

“So…how are things at the university?”

He meant William and Mary—the university Thomas had attended for undergrad and now, as a man almost ten years older than Jemmy, for graduate work. Jemmy shielded his eyes from the sunlight coming in through the window as it seeped through his dark shirt and made him sweat. He only then realized Thomas hadn’t bothered to turn the air conditioning on.

“Oh, it’s fantastic,” the Virginian began. “I couldn’t have asked for a better place to be. The professors…they’re all just wonderful. I’ve started thinking about another paper to write, I think with a more political bend, about what we as a human race are doing to this planet and when it means for the people in charge, but I have to run it past my adviser first.”

Jemmy nodded along at the correct moments, happy to be in the company of someone who’s every thought did not revolve around hedonism.

“I think that’s a splendid idea,” he piped up. Truthffully, Jemmy hadn’t put much thought into the environment—in a city where trees were about as scarce as some mythical beast, he was never reminded to pick up litter—but he was happy to hear someone talk about something they were clearly passionate about.

“I’m also thinking about studying abroad again, in France, of course. You remember when I went the first time.”

“Vaguely,” Jemmy laughed. Actually, he remembered very vividly, and was jealous he’d never gotten the opportunity. He hadn’t meant to sound bitter, but responded, “You’re fluent in the language. You love the culture. You might as well.”

“I just feel so at home there. The French just… _ get _ it.” Thomas hadn’t picked up on the bitterness.

In another two minutes, the students were parked in front of a small, one floor bungalow. It shocked Jemmy how normal the whole thing seemed. The way Thomas talked, he’d expected him to live in a circular tree house, powered by rain water.

“This is it,” the Virginian said, stepping out of the cramped Prius and stretching. “It’s certainly not where I’d like to spend the rest of my days. But the rent is cheap, the energy costs are low. And the view is magnificent.” He extended an arm around him, to a field across the street, several other small ranchers dotting the landscape, and a deep, lush forest. “William and Mary is about a half hour that way.” He pointed towards the setting sun.

Jemmy looked around him, and exhaled. “It’s perfect. Very secluded. Good for studying.”

Thomas nodded and looked up at the sky, “Also, because there isn’t any light pollution, you know, like in those large cities, we should get a fantastic view of the night sky. I’ve started to get into astronomy.”

Jemmy nodded again, aware of how ignorant he felt. Thomas “got into” heady sciences like certain people got into new genres of music. Picking each subject off a shelf, the Virginian opened the box of knowledge, took out all the parts, and glued them together perfectly. Then sat back and admired his pristine work.

“Well that should be fun,” Jemmy wheeled his suitcase behind him, into the house, where Thomas stood holding the door.

Though the interior was small, everything was in its place. The floor had been vacuumed, the shelves, dusted. Not a single knick-knack (Jemmy struggled with what to call the odd artifacts sitting on various surfaces—probably from Thomas’ archaeology phase) was out of place. There was no television, only an old fashioned radio sitting in the corner, its guts and wires spilling out into a box on the floor next to it. 

Here and there Jemmy saw evidence of his friend’s unique and restless genius: Unfinished architectural sketches taped to a drafting table in the kitchen down the hall, an entire wall lined with old books, stacked as neatly as possible. The little scholar wondered when, between all the studying and discovery, Thomas had had time to straighten up.

“I simply called a maid service.”

Jemmy nodded absentmindedly and followed his eclectic companion into the kitchen. Genius has no time for the  _ mundane _ , he told himself internally.

“Would you like anything to drink? To eat?” Thomas asked politely, reaching into a cabinet and pulling out two crystal-clear glasses. “I have soy milk, if you’d like to give that a try. Tofu burgers sound awful but they are in fact delicious with hummus. I’m trying out a bit of a vegetarian diet lately. Meat just doesn’t sit well with me.”

Jemmy looked at him blankly for a moment, then nodded at the soy milk.

“Me neither, to tell you the truth,” Jemmy admitted. He never cared for dairy products. “The only time I’ve tried soy anything was this soy ice cream I bought for my roommate by accident last year. He said it tasted like plaster. I ended up actually liking it.” In his mind, Jemmy saw Aaron’s face curl up in disgust at the mistaken purchase. It had been pretty rude of him.

“Oh, same here,” Thomas grinned, watching the liquid fill the glass, “I can’t stand most dairy products nowadays. Too many disgusting chemicals. I’ve also baked some vegan banana but bread, if you’re interested.”

“You bake too? God, Thomas. You’re a renaissance man!”

Jemmy had meant it as an exaggeration; Thomas smiled wider and nodded in agreement.

“I simply followed the instructions as they were laid out, in the cookbook. People make  _ such _ a big deal out of baking, saying it’s not like cooking, that there is a chemistry to it. But I did it no problem.” He sliced a piece of the cake on the counter, put it on a plate, and placed it on the table.

“Well I’m glad I chose to spend the week here, so I could see this new hobby for myself,” Jemmy bit into the loaf, and was pleasantly surprised.

Thomas stared out the window to their left, “Everyone needs to get out of the city more often. It’s not healthy to be living in such cramped quarters. You need a vacation.”

Before he could stop himself, Jemmy nodded vigorously, “You’re telling  _ me _ .”

Thomas turned his strange, unfocused gaze back to Jemmy. “You weren’t kidding when you told me how awful it had gotten.” It wasn’t a question.

Jemmy accidentally bit the inside of his cheek, and cringed. Instinctively, he prepared to defend his fellow Princetonian, “Well, I wouldn’t say it’s  _ unbearable _ . It’s just…the crowd up there is…”

“City people are different. Colder.” Thomas looked down at the cake and cut himself a slice, biting into it cleanly. “Richmond is bad enough. I can’t even fathom New York.”

“But you like Paris,” Jemmy offered. The Virginian pretended not to hear him, and Jemmy knew when not to press a subject.

“Such a dirty place. I can’t understand why someone would willingly live there. Let alone think they can get a good education with so many distractions.”

“Okay, well, it’s not  _ that  _ bad,” Jemmy replied, a little defensively. “And besides, Princeton isn’t an awful city at all. It’s actually very quaint. Lots of…you know, locally owned artisan shops. You’d like it.”

“I just think you’re making the right decision, coming down here to practice law. I think I’d like to take up law, too, you know. We could practice together.”

Jemmy let out a small cough and saw a crumb fly out of his mouth. “Oh?”

“I’ve been giving it some thought.” Thomas chewed solemnly. “Either that or go for my doctorate.”

“I’m sure you’d do wonderfully as a professor,” Jemmy offered, finishing his slice of cake. The sun outside dipped below the horizon and Thomas reached for a lamp nearby, grinning broadly as the clinically cold light of an LED bulb flickered on.

“Energy savers. There more expensive when you buy them, but they last for about  _ twelve _ years. I don’t know why they haven’t caught on.”

The entire kitchen became engulfed in a cold, hospital-like glow. Jemmy leaned back in his seat.

“What is on your mind?” Thomas asked after a few moments of silence.

“It’s my roommate. I’m sorry to keep harping on the same subject.”

“No need to apologize.”

“Him and his friends. And his enemies,” Jemmy added, remembering with embarrassing clarity Aaron’s description of the fist-fight he and Alexander engaged in, in an uncharacteristically long string of texts he’d received last night. “He’s making me dread school. And it’s unhealthy.”

“Very unhealthy,” the Virginian agreed, brows furrowed. “What did you say his name was?”

“Aaron Burr.”

“’Burr’…’Burr’…” Thomas looked away in thought, “I’ve heard that name before. It sounds familiar but I can’t place it.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised. His family is practically built into the foundations of Princeton. Edwards, his grandfather, donated millions of dollars, and was on the board—“

“—Nepotism disgusts me. I’m sorry, Jemmy. I’m sorry you’re a victim of that sort of spoils system.”

“Well, it’s not just Aaron. It’s his cousin. Cousins, I should say. He has about a million. And then there’s Alexander—“

“—Sorry to interrupt. Friend or enemy?” Thomas inclined his head politely.

“Enemy. I think. Hamilton is his last name.” Jemmy scratched his head. “I think they hate each other. Actually, every time I get corned by one of them it’s to piss and moan about the other. Alexander thinks Aaron is a spoiled, ungrateful trust-fund baby and Aaron thinks Alexander is a reckless idiot. And between the two of them—they were both my friends. Were, mind you. Between the two of them, I can’t think straight anymore. They’re driving me insane. And I have to get out before I get distracted.”

The Virginian nodded again, “Hamilton. Yes, I think I’ve heard his name before. Is he published?”

“Published?”

“In academic journals. I remember reading some god-awful diatribe about banks being the saviors of the country, or some other such nonsense, and it leaving a bad taste in my mouth. I don’t know why I even bother with those financial papers.” Thomas waved his hand and grimaced.

“Oh. Probably. If it was a financial thing, it was probably him. He’s been published before. Aaron hasn’t. he just brings girls back to my dorm to fuck.”

“Jemmy, God,” Thomas turned red at the word and choked back a laugh. Jemmy was on a roll, and let his anger burst forth.

“I just can’t take it anymore. Alexander, with his self-righteous sermonizing about how he’s going to be a big shot on Wall Street someday, constantly talking about bettering himself, acting like he’s the only one who’s ever felt worthless. And Aaron’s complete disregard for the rules. He’s so spoiled, Thomas, so entitled. They both think the world owes them something. Alexander thinks that because he’s struggled that he’s somehow better than me, and Aaron thinks that because he’s been  _ given _ everything that  _ he’s  _ somehow better than me.”

“I’m so sorry, my friend,” the Virginian let out a small sigh, “If it’s any consolation, I can put in a good word for you at the university, with some of the professors, to see if they know of any job openings down here.”

“I would greatly appreciate that, Thomas,” Jemmy said definitively, making up his mind on the spot. He hadn’t given much thought to leaving New Jersey so soon, but talking about it out loud, and feeling the heat of his anger across his pallid cheeks and around his neck, made him drastically reconsider.

“You seem to have your mind made up,” Thomas laughed again, his own placid features spreading into a grin.

“I was supposed to help Alexander write some essays for a little book he’s putting together, having to do with legal theories regarding the constitution.”

“Are you?”

The small, agitated scholar could only stare intently at a spot on the floor and nod to himself, “I’ll help him, because I promised to. I’m going to try and rectify these friendships. But something keeps nagging at me, telling me the damage has already been done.”


	5. Chapter 5

Aaron was the first out of the taxi, grabbing his small backpack and slamming the door with a look of distaste on his face. Alexander wasn’t far behind, still pondering the ride.

Aaron had been quieter than usual as the cab fled down back streets and through intersections, staring listlessly out the window. Alexander stared into his lap, at his hands, at the floor, at the weird stain on the seat between them—at anything else, really, other than his companion. He wondered how he’d let himself get this far: inviting himself into someone’ beach house without it being their idea, and wanted to cringe.

Alexander tried to remember why he and Aaron had begun fighting. It was gossip, as always, that spread out of control and humiliated him. He kept reminding himself that the reason he’d taken charge was in order to have some control. If you can control the source of the negativity, Alexander reasoned, you’ve got nothing to fear.

The taxi driver sped off after Aaron paid him, leaving the two students standing awkwardly in front of the house. Alexander looked up at it and reeled internally.

“Well, here it is, I guess,” Aaron offered, breaking the silence. He shifted his book bag onto his back and walked toward the front door, fishing in his pocket for the keys. “God, it’s awful.”

Alexander couldn’t bring himself to entertain the notion that a house like the one he stood in front of was anything other than spectacular. He guessed it was nearly five thousand square feet—not exactly “right on the water”, but close enough that he could hear crashing waves and angry sea gulls—and by the look of the cut grass and manicured plants around him, had been taken care of even when the family wasn’t there. Probably by paid gardeners.  _ Someone  _ cared about this house.

“Your definition of awful and my definition of awful must be two very different definitions of awful, then,” Alexander muttered as he followed the other boy.

Once inside, Alexander wasn’t surprised to see a beautifully furnished living room and kitchen, a large television, expensive furniture, this crystal, that painting, those priceless antiques—

“Want anything? Or are you just going to stand there with your mouth open?”

Alexander was unaware that his companion had stopped walking to stare at him. Aaron, meanwhile, felt his insides go numb at the sight of all the old family artifacts.

“I’m…just let me take it all in…”

“There’s not much to ‘take in’,” Aaron responded shortly, turning his back in embarrassment and walking into the kitchen. “It’s just a house, Alexander.”

“Well I’ve never been in one this grand before. You should take it as a compliment.”

“Jesus Christ, you’re starting already. Look, I already told you. I hate this place. I hate what it represents. I hate the pretentious garbage in it. I’m only letting you stay here as an apology gift.”

Alexander brought his gaze back to Aaron, “Fine. I won’t compliment your house.” He wheeled his suitcase into the living room and sat down, slowly, on a leather couch. He shivered as the cold fabric hit his skin.

“Did you say you needed to do laundry?” Aaron reminded him from the kitchen, pouring himself a glass of water from the sink.

“Won’t your uncle wonder where you’re going for the holiday?” Alexander asked, still looking around.

“He thinks I’m staying at school.” Aaron walked over to the couch with another glass of water, and offered it to his companion. He sat down and continued, “But really, he doesn’t care about me. He cares about reputation.”

“And you as the product of reputation.”

“Precisely.”

Alexander rolled his eyes and sipped his drink. He waited for the other boy to speak up, but the silence descended between them like a wall.

“What time is it?” Aaron maneuvered himself into a more comfortable position on the couch. Alexander checked his phone.

“Nearly six.”

“Want to see if there’s anything to eat here?”

Alexander shrugged, “Yes, I supposed so,” and followed Aaron into the kitchen.

Aaron rummaged around in several cabinets, looking for something “That might have been left over from the summer, pasta or something,” while Alexander felt his mouth go dry again at the discomfort of the situation.

“You’ll need sauce too, you know, it’s not just pasta,” he called to Aaron, who had his head stuck in a cabinet. “Want me to see if there’s any that hasn’t expired? In the fridge or something?”

Aaron raised his voice several octaves, “Yes, dear.”

Alexander found one single jar and placed it on the counter, studying the label as something to do, while Aaron fished out a box of linguini.

“Won’t anyone ask where the food has gone? I mean, won’t they notice it’s missing?” Alexander leaned over the counter and watched as the other student filled a giant pan, a pained smile on his face.

“Not at all.”

“An entire box of spaghetti and a jar of sauce? Gone? No one will ask questions?”

“We’re not exactly starving here, Hamilton,” Aaron shot back, lifting the heavy pot onto the stove and sprinkling in some salt. Alexander raised his eyebrows, defensive.

“Right, I forgot. You could probably buy an entire tomato farm and make the shit yourselves.”

“I’ll leave that to Jemmy’s weird farmer friends.”

At the mention of his other peer, Alexander felt his mouth go numb. In truth, Jemmy was the central reason he was here, at the “ghastly beach house”, with his enemy, trying to work through their problems. Alexander didn’t know whether he should thank him or hit him.

Aaron noticed his companion’s discomfort and tried to ease it, “Don’t think too much about him. People change. People grow apart. It’s a part of life.”

Alexander cringed at that stupid saying. Only people who’d never been forcefully abandoned say trite things like that.

“Do you need help with pouring the water out? It looks heavy.”

“Yes, thank you.”

Alexander grabbed the metal strainer and held it over the sink while Aaron poured. The steam rose up quickly, hitting him in the face.

Several minutes later, after a brief struggle with opening the jar of tomato sauce and finding an appropriate amount of parmesan cheese, the two students had a respectable dish of pasta.

“I can’t remember the last time I actually made myself dinner,” Aaron said, “Usually I just go to the cafeteria, or buy something premade. This is strange.” He carried his plate to the other side of the counter, where two bar stools stood. Alexander, unsure, followed.

“I keep a loaf of bread and a giant box of ramen in the dorm. It’s all you need, really. Bobby hates the stuff. He thinks Ramen is disgusting.” Alexander shoved a forkful of pasta into his mouth while Aaron smiled benignly. “I don’t understand why. It’s not that bad. Unhealthy, certainly. But good in a pinch.”

“Oh I can’t imagine Bobby would want anything to do with Ramen, yeah.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“I know all about Bobby and the Ramen,” Aaron pressed on, clearing his throat. “You didn’t really hang out with him back in high school, but he and I were pretty close. Bobby’s always been…you know, a little on the pudgy side. Never a really healthy eater, either. When he was about fifteen, he became obsessed with the stuff. His parents tried everything to get him to off it—took him to the doctor, made him try weird foods, hypnosis, the usual stuff. And he still insisted on eating only Ramen.”

Alexander scraped his fork against the bottom of his bowl, unsure whether asking for seconds would be rude. He listened intently to Aaron’s story.

“One day, after about a month of eating literally only Ramen, he collapsed in the middle of finance class. Just right there on the floor. I was sitting right next to him when it happened. He started yelling about being in pain and clutching his abdomen. The teacher thought his appendix had burst and started calling 911.” Aaron gesticulated with his hands, a tiny smile ready to burst forth on his mouth. “He was out of school for a few days and everyone thought the worst.” 

Aaron couldn’t help himself, and began to laugh. “Well, it turns out he had something called a bowel obstruction. All that Ramen made him so constipated that he hadn’t taken a crap in a week.”

Alexander choked on the last of his noodles as he laughed into his glass of water, feeling his face turn bright red.

“The poor guy was humiliated. No one else knows, of course, except me. Well, maybe Gouv. You know Gouv, he goes to Columbia too. And this one other guy, Rufus. Don’t know if you were there long enough to meet him.”

“So  _ that’s _ why he always goes pale whenever I pull out a packet of Ramen,” Alexander chuckled as he put his drink down. “It all makes sense.”

“Yep.” Aaron shook his head in reverie, still smiling. “Dear old Bob. I love the guy. But he’s just about as awkward as they come.”

Alexander looked to his left, outside a window at the setting sun. Nearly eight, he wondered if he’d have time to do a load of laundry. Aaron eyed his companion’s empty glass.

“You wanted anything more to drink?”

“Oh, that would be great, thank you.” Alexander held out his glass helpfully. Aaron’s smile turned mischievous.

“No. I mean, a  _ drink _ .”

“I…oh.” Alexander felt silly; pulled his empty cup back towards him, mildly embarrassed.

“I know there’s some ancient port hiding around here somewhere. Perfect for a chilly night. Or, if you want to stay in the pasta vein, some Italian Merlot. Red wine goes best with pasta.”

“I didn’t know.”

The other student opened cabinets quickly, stuck his head inside, moved items around, looking for the alcohol. In the last one, he found it, behind several boxes of pancake mix.

“They hide it because they don’t like to see it. Everyone thinks if you hide your vices it makes them go away. Repressed, all of them.” Aaron looked in another cabinet for wine glasses. “Oh, of course not. No. They wouldn’t buy wine glasses.” He motioned for Alexander to give him the empty glass tumblr. “We’ll have to do this the classless way.”

“You don’t have to share the wine if you don’t want to,” Alexander remarked, looking at the bottle and noticing, though he knew he wasn’t supposed to, the fifty dollar price tag sticker still on the neck.

“Nonsense. It will be funny to see my aunt try and figure out where her wine went without being able to explicitly ask,” Aaron handed the glass back to his companion, filled with deep crimson Merlot.

“Cheers, Mr. Hamilton,” he raised his cup, Alexander mimicked him. The last of the sunlight dipped below the horizon and Aaron reached out for a light switch. Several track lights flickered on in the cozy living room, and the black-eyed boy dimmed them expertly.

“Cheers, Burr,” Alexander responded, unsure. 

The expensive wine went down smoothly, and Alexander felt himself smiling more and more.

“Tell me how this house came to be in your family. I mean I know you hate it,” Alexander swiveled his head this way and that, a little too loosely, looking at his surroundings, “But I want to know why they bought it. I thought your family was into simple living. Or something.”

The two companions sat on the couch, facing the darkening night sky, and finished the bottle of wine.

Aaron shrugged, mildly embarrassed, “I don’t know. I really don’t. It was a great uncle’s. Stephen’s, I think.”

“Great Uncle Stephen,” Alexander repeated, smiling and nodding, as if he knew him.

“He’s one of the few relatives I can actually stand. The guy’s a nut. But I love him. One of these rooms is his. It’s upstairs.” Aaron moved around in his seat, checked the clock on the wall, “I should show you around. We’ve been here for nearly three hours and I haven’t even offered you a tour.”

“I figured it was because you hated the place. I just need to do my laundry, I don’t need a tour,” Alexander laughed. He tilted his head back and finished the last of his wine, letting it burn his tongue and liking the way the tartness lingered in his mouth.

“Come on,” Aaron stood, “It’s the polite thing to do.”

In a matter of seconds they were walking through a hallway leading from the living room to the dining room. Also spectacular, Alexander thought, eyeing the china in the glass cabinet and the brilliantly shiny mahogany table. Then onto the family room, complete with another television, and beyond that, thankfully, the laundry room at the back of the house. At the end of the hallway were the stairs.

“I haven’t been here in so long,” Aaron muttered to himself absentmindedly, ascending the steps. Alexander slowly followed.

Once at the top, they were faced with another long hallway.

“I’m sure you know what a bedroom looks like,” Aaron continued, his own glass of wine still a quarter of the way full. He swirled it around, looking into it dolefully, and then drank.

“How many bedrooms are there?”

“Five, at last count.”

“I thought you had twelve cousins.”

Aaron groaned, “Twenty, actually. The most that ever lived with me at one time was twelve. Most of them are old enough to go away to school or live on their own.”

Alexander nearly toppled down the stairs.

“I’m sorry, did you say  _ twenty?” _

“I did.” Aaron looked around uncomfortably. “But they’re not all blood related. It’s…my family is complicated. Come with me.”

Alexander had no choice but to follow, down the hallway and past several rooms, into a larger opening at the end; what Alexander assumed was a bonus room over the garage. Lined up on a shelf at the far end of the wall were a series of photographs. Aaron pointed to them from a distance, as if walking to close would make him sick.

“Those are them. My family. Well, most of them.”

Aaron stayed put; Alexander walked closer.

“The picture on the far right is me, my sister and my parents. Before they died. It’s the only one I have of all four of us together.”

Alexander stared at the photograph for a minute, taking it in. The small, dark-haired toddler being held by his similarly colored mother was clearly Aaron. A young girl of four or five stood next to her father, clutching his leg, squinting in the sun. The father himself stood apart from his wife by several inches, tiny smirk on his mouth, alarmingly akin to the one Aaron wore earlier when he’d suggested they drink alcohol instead of water. Alexander smiled to himself.

“I like your parents.” He lifted the photo and looked back at Aaron. “You mother was beautiful. And your father looks like he was a decent guy.”

Aaron shrugged, “Maybe I got the good genes.”

Alexander put the picture back down and scanned the others: most of the figures weren’t smiling, and most looked old, even the young ones, bored, or scared.

“They’re mostly my mother’s family. She has…I don’t know. Eight siblings. My Uncle Timothy is the oldest. His wife loves kids. I don’t know why, honestly, she can hardly keep them under control, and he’s terribly intimidating, but there you go.” The affectedness came back to Aaron’s voice and he walked closer. “It’s terrible but…when I was five or six I ran away after seeing program about foster care. I was hoping someone else would adopt me.”

Alexander waited, unsure how to respond, and uncomfortable with the similarities between their upbringing.

“That was the most vivid memory I have of my uncle’s temper.”

“You don’t have to tell the story if you don’t want to,” Alexander offered. Aaron accepted.

Alexander pressed on, “They all look very solemn. Numerous and solemn.”

“And religious. Don’t forget religious.” Aaron leaned in and whispered, “No contraceptives.”

Alexander started chuckling and stepped back from the shelf. Aaron watched him for a moment and then walked over to a different bookshelf, absentmindedly thumbing through one after another before putting them back. He sighed, looked out the window, and waited for his guest to speak.

“I guess I don’t need to tell you that I don’t have a single photograph of my mother. Or father, for that matter. I’m sure there are some back on the island, but I didn’t bring any with me.”

Aaron nodded. Alexander waved a hand, waved his thought away.

“Let’s not talk about depressing family history,” he continued, a small, sad smile on his mouth.

“I concur,” Aaron’s eyes sparked with mirth, “I think we can both conclude that we’re nothing like our relatives. Or, at least, we’re trying not to be.”

“Fair enough.”

“Do you want to see my Great Uncle Stephen’s massive National Geographic collection?”

Alexander collapsed into laughter again and steadied himself against the shelf,  _ “What?” _

“Come on. This is great.” Aaron walked over to him and grabbed his arm, forgetting his empty wine glass on the bookshelf, and dragged his companion back down the hallway, “It’s ridiculous. You have to see this. He probably has several hundred.”

They reached the room in question and Aaron jiggled the door handle, thinking it was locked. After several swear words and a slight kick, it opened.

“This is Great Uncle Stephen’s room. I don’t remember the last time he used it for anything other than storage, but who cares. The guy is a little nutty. My uncle hates him and my aunt thinks he needs to be medicated. He’s the only one I can stand,” Aaron reiterated.

The two boys walked over to a sagging bookshelf of fading, tearing yellow spines—organized by date—of magazines. Aaron turned his head sideways to read the titles.

“Most of these are from before I was born.”

Alexander was stunned into silence. There was more to the room than just old magazines. Clearly, he reasoned, the man was a hoarder, because there were hundreds. Many were torn and old, some completely without binding, held together by duct tape. Still others were missing jackets. Many were dog-eared and worn. Great Uncle Stephen didn’t simply collect books, he loved them to death.

“This is insane, Burr,” Alexander muttered, without thinking. Aaron looked embarrassed. “I mean, in a good way.”

“He lives in New Hampshire somewhere. Probably on a farm with horses. Brewing moonshine.”

“His own little slice of heaven,” Alexander picked up a particularly damaged book, grimaced at the title, and put it down again. “Oh dear.”

“What’s that?”

“I think that was porn.”

Aaron laughed, “Yeah. He’s got those, too. I’ve been trying, my entire life, to figure out his organizational logic, and I can’t. I think he’s got them separated by genre, but—“

“—National Geographic, pornography and cookbooks,” Alexander finished, craning his neck to see another shelf of recipe books.

“Sounds about right,” Aaron chuckled again. He stepped back and bumped into a table of tarot cards, and swore. “Goddamit, Great Uncle Stephen. What did I tell you about leaving your devil magic out where people can see it?”

Alexander turned and looked, “Oh my God.”

“And  _ that’s _ why he lives in an undisclosed location in New Hampshire.” Aaron picked up several cards, marveled at the grim artwork, and put them down again. “Because I’m almost positive that if my Uncle Timothy ever found out he was conjuring spirits and making astrological birth charts he and the rest of my relatives would  _ literally _ hang him.”

“Harsh,” Alexander whispered, looking at the cards himself. He knew Aaron despised his family, but was secretly pleased the dark-eyed boy was opening up about its kooky side. “Is that an alter?”

“Oh, probably. Great Uncle Stephen is a pagan. In every sense of the word. Astronomy and astrology, tarot, meditation and hypnosis, you name it. One time he and my aunt got into a screaming match about me because he said so many restrictions shouldn’t be placed on an Aquarius.”

“I didn’t know.” Alexander picked up a snow globe souvenir from the island of Nevis and rolled his eyes.

“Very important that I should be allowed to make my own way in the world, he insisted. My aunt told him that astrology was the devil’s business and then I’m pretty sure he exposed her drinking problem. I love Thanksgiving.”

Alexander laughed again and held up the snow globe, “Your Great Uncle Stephen is fantastic.”

“Oh that stupid thing. I doubt he’s ever been to the Caribbean.”

“Snows all the time. Can’t get away from it.”

Aaron rubbed his eyes and laughed harder, “Anyway. After the screaming match about astrology, Great Uncle Stephen decided he’d had enough and moved away the next week, really quickly, which is why he left a lot of his stuff here.”

Aaron grabbed another dog-eared book about the zodiac and leafed through it.

“He sounds like wizard.”

“He was probably a wizard.” Aaron put the book under his arm. “I miss him though.”

“Everyone has that one relative they like better than all the others. I think it’s just…human nature. I remember reading somewhere that we’re programmed to both love and hate our family. So we don’t breed with them.”

Aaron almost dropped his book, snickering, “Jesus, Hamilton. You  _ are _ drunk.”

Alexander smiled and shrugged, “It’s true, though. It’s a evolutionary defense mechanism.”

“Ooh, evolution.” Aaron clucked his tongue, scolding. “Mr. Hamilton, everyone knows that evolution is a lie and that God created everything in seven days.”

“I’m sure he had something to do with it, too,” Alexander flashed a wine-stained grin, quickly, and then went back to leafing through the old magazines. Aaron walked closer, pointing a finger.

“None of that liberal science mumbo-jumbo,” he responded, quietly, mockingly, “or I’ll make you stay after class writing lines from the Bible.”

Alexander widened his eyes, playing along, “Oh, teacher, I promise I’ll be good.” He placed a hand over his heart and Aaron chuckled. A minute of silence passed between them while tAlexander pretended to read the blurred words of the old magazine, and wondered why his fingers had suddenly gone numb.

“Want to read each other’s fortunes?” Aaron spoke up, breaking the uncomfortable quiet. Alexander looked up and laughed.

“What?”

Aaron settled himself in a frayed chair in front of a window, and flipped through the pages of the zodiac book he’d grabbed earlier.

“I think my birth chart is in here somewhere. Or maybe he took it with him. Who knows.”

“I want a birth chart,” Alexander said, vaguely interested. “When I was really young, there was a really old lady on the island who made money making birth charts and telling fortunes, things like that. I always wanted one, but when my dad was still around, he always made fun of her. And so I felt silly asking for one. I think she was blind in one eye. Kind of makes it more impressive, really.”

“I’ve sort of always been interested in divination, too. Kind of interesting how the religious numbskulls that raised me write off astrology as complete garbage but still believe some big Gandalf in the sky controls everything.”

“There’s more to it than that,” Alexander replied, more than a little defensively, feeling himself grow warm.

Aaron looked up for a moment, eyes darkening dangerously, “You don’t need to lecture me on religion, Hamilton.”  

Alexander decided not to press the matter, and instead paid attention to the open book.

“Capricorn,” he muttered, pointing to the page, “what does it say?”

“Well I need more than just your sun sign. I need your time and location of birth. And it looks like there’s a whole lot of math involved in this.” Aaron made a face. “Not as fun as Great Uncle Stephen made it out to be.”

“I have no idea what time I was born,” Alexander admitted sadly.

“Capricorn is a goat, ruled by Saturn, whose element is Earth, and it’s traditionally associated with a  _ Stern _ Father Figure, or Father Time, known as Chronos. Really dry, traditional stuff,” Aaron pointed a finger at the words as he read along, “Money, social advancement, finance, time, father-figures, career, politics, materialism…all Capricorn things.”

“Scintillating.”                                                                                                          

“They’re also known for their sarcasm and dark sense of humor.”

“One time I made everyone in my village go on lockdown because I said I saw a ghost.”

Aaron smiled to himself and flipped a page, “And there’s me, right next door.” He pointed to a slim, attractive male youth, pouring water from a flask, “That’s Ganymede. The Water-Bearer.”

“Way lamer than the God of Time,” Alexander pushed a box of tissues from another table and leaned against it.

“Apparently he was Zeus’ fuck-boy.” Aaron read along and Alexander broke into a coughing fit. “Looks like the complete opposite of Capricorn. Social freedom, unrestrained progress, timelessness, space, abstraction, liberalism. Still ruled by father-figures and Saturn, though.”

Alexander nodded to himself. “Sounds like Capricorn is the dad who will ground you for staying out five minutes past curfew and Aquarius is the dad that will smoke pot with you and your friends in the garage.”

Aaron closed the book, and looked at his companion,smiling, “Nailed it.”

Alexander turned and looked at his companion, returning the smile. In an instant, Aaron looked like he remembered something important.

“Laundry! I can’t believe I forgot to show you where it is!” Aaron stood up and beckoned for the other student to follow him again, down the hall and back down the stairs. 

\--------

“Most of these people are alright. I know them from university.”

The muted hum of the Prius was the only sound for several minutes, as Jemmy stared out the window, counting tree after tree in the dying Virginia wilderness. Why someone would choose to be so isolated, Jemmy couldn’t tell, but he was pleased that Thomas had invited him to come along the party.

“The University likes to host events over holiday breaks, for those of us who don’t celebrate them,” Thomas continued, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel to a beat inside his head, “Thanksgiving is just not a holiday that I feel is necessary. What is the point, do you think?”

Jemmy looked up, aware that Thomas was asking him a question and not just speaking rhetorically.

“Oh, Thanksgiving?” The tiny student chuckled, “I don’t know. I don’t see anything wrong with it. Simply an excuse for families to get together and enjoy each other’s company.”

“The Native Peoples gave us food, and in return we extinguished them,” the Virginian responded definitively. Jemmy couldn’t argue.

“I choose not to celebrate these holidays,” Thomas nodded to himself, “which is why I spoke with the dean of the anthropology department and asked him to allow us usage of the University over break, for gatherings like the one I’m taking you to tonight. Lots of like-minded people. You’ll see. You might even meet someone.”

Jemmy perked up slightly, turning red, slowly becoming aware that he was the designated bachelor, no matter what group he chose to hang out with.

“I’m not counting on it, to tell you the truth. I’m thinking about swearing off women, at least until I’m settled.”

“Oh?” Thomas cleared his throat, and took a left turn without using a blinker.

“It won’t be so bad,” Jemmy lied, “I can occupy myself. Actually, it might be better that I don’t have any distractions.”

“I can’t wait for you to meet Martha,” the Virginian pressed on, still thinking about the approaching party. “She’s…”

Jemmy looked at his friend, who had turned a blotchy shade of pink.

“…Well, you’ll meet her. She’s so kind, she’ll introduce you to all sorts of people. She’ll make you feel right at home. It’s one of her best traits.”

Thomas nodded again, still half lost in a thought, and pulled into a parking lot.

William and Mary was an old school, and the architecture reflected it. Jemmy marveled at how serene everything looked– clean cut and well manicured—and wondered if Jefferson had chosen this school simply because of how bucolic it was. He would have liked to have chosen the adjective “regal” to describe the red brick buildings and centuries-old trees providing shade to the pristine walk-ways, but knew that Thomas wouldn’t have liked that. He kept his silence as the two figures made their way into one of the buildings.

“So what should I expect?” Jemmy asked quietly, turning down a hallway and struggling to keep pace with his tall companion.

“Oh, I’m sure the usual crowd will be here. You will have to meet James Monroe. You will like him. I just hope he didn’t bring his roommate.”

“His roommate?” The tiny Princetonian felt like a child, getting out of breath and asking question after question.

“My cousin John. He’s an argumentative know-it-all. James can’t stand him. I don’t know why he doesn’t request a new roommate,” Thomas laughed, “Ah, wait, yes I do. It’s because John will fight it with every breath in his body simply to start a fight.”

“Are you sure it isn’t just family rivalry that makes you hate him?”

“My cousin is a smart man, but irritating.” The Virginian paused briefly before opening another door, and turned his abstract gaze in the direction of the small scholar, “Do keep in mind that this stays between us, Jemmy.”

“Oh, of course.”

Thomas held up a long-fingered hand, “And don’t let James know we’ve been chatting about him.”

Jemmy furrowed his eyebrows, mildly confused, and nodded.

Once inside the small room they were greeted by polite nods and friendly smiles. Jemmy adjusted his eyes to the dim lighting and followed his taller companion as he walked towards a small group of people.

“Is there a lecture or something?” Jemmy asked, craning his neck and looking around at the college students milling about.

“There’s supposed to be. It’s about the environment and raising awareness. An email was sent out earlier to all students involved, letting them know that the speaker had a sore throat and may not make it. But that they’d try to get a back up speaker just in case. I don’t see him, however.”

The small group of people greeted Thomas warmly, and the tall Virginian beckoned for Jemmy to step closer.

“This is my good friend James Madison,” he began in his quiet voice; the students nodded.

“I go by Jemmy off the record,” he piped up, trying for humor and letting a nervous laugh escape him.

“I invited him to come stay with me for the break, and thought he might enjoy himself here tonight.”

A tall male student with well-styled, thick hair and piercing eyes answered, “I don’t think your speaker is going to show up tonight, though. It’s already seven-thirty and he was supposed to be here by quarter til. Didn’t you say you had a backup plan?”

Thomas turned pink again as all eyes in the small group turned to him, “I delegated that task to someone else who apparently didn’t do it.”

The other tall student introduced himself as James Monroe, and Jemmy smiled politely.

“I’d get up there and talk about the environment,” he whispered to Jemmy later, “but I’d have no idea what to talk about. Nature is Thomas’ thing. I’m a law student, like you.”

As the minutes dragged on, and Thomas walked his new friend around the room, politely introducing him as “his agent up in Princeton”, with requisite cheek, Jemmy felt more and more relaxed. Soon, he was seated at a table with the easy-going James and a handsome but scowling man who looked awkwardly out of place. After brief introductions and an uncomfortable silence, Thomas left his new friend to find Martha.

“You know, you don’t have to look so pissed off all the time,” James turned his head to look at his roommate, who sat idly scrolling through his phone.

“I told you I didn’t want to come. You made up some horse shit about extra credit.” John Marshall raised his sharp black gaze, not amused. 

“So leave.” James shot back. “No one wants you here if you’re going to piss and moan all night.”

John darkened his phone, frustrated. “I’m not ‘ _ pissing and moaning _ ’, Monroe. I  _ can’t  _ leave. I can’t leave because I can’t get back into the dorm, because you have the keys.”

At this, James laughed, “Oh yeah!”

Jemmy looked confused until James explained gleefully, “I told him he had to come to this meeting to try and hear things from Thomas’ perspective. They’re cousins, you know? They should try and get along. John refused until I tricked him into thinking it was for extra credit, and took the keys and now he’s locked out of the dorm until I go back.”

“It’s not funny, it’s childish. I have a lot of things I need to do.”

“‘Things’ you need to ‘do’? Like your ugly girlfriend?”

Jemmy tried to stifle his laughter, while John’s countenance darkened, “Are you reading my texts  _ again _ ? Jesus Christ, James, get a fucking life.”

James straightened up,  amused, “Oh, okay. If you’re just going to leave your phone unlocked where everyone can see it, what do you expect is going to happen?”

John slammed a fist against the table, “James, I swear to God. It’s not funny, it’s invasion of privacy.” 

Marshall turned his attention towards Jemmy, who followed the argument with rapt interest. “Do you see, now, why I want to get transferred to another dorm room? This is ridiculous. And he doesn’t care. Do you see? He thinks it’s funny. He’s sick in the head.”

“Well, I mean,” Jemmy reasoned, still trying to hide his laughter, “It was kind of silly of you to leave your cell phone out in the open like that.”

“It’s not my fault for making a human error in leaving my cell phone exposed. It’s James’ fault for proactively being a shitty person and picking it up to read. His crime was avoidable, mine was not.”

“Oh Jesus, here we go.” James put his head in his hands.

“No, not ‘here we go’,” John pressed on, finding his steam and raising a finger, “Not ‘here we go’. This is an invasion of privacy. With the intent to humiliate.”

“He’s a law student, too, can you tell?” James locked eyes with Jemmy, who began to feel comfortably at home.

“You know what? Forget it. I don’t know why I bother.” The square-jawed, usually composed John Marshall shook his head, sensing defeat. He paused for a moment, then spoke up again.

“Yes, James. You figured it out. I was hoping to spend the night with my girlfriend instead of sitting around congratulating my cousin and his idiot friends. You have uncovered a shock to the sensibilities of mankind that will reverberate through the ages. Congratulations. Do you want me to tell Thomas about it so he can give you little ass-pats and make you his T.A. so you can finally quit your job at Chipotle?”

“And we’re off to the races!” James goaded further, unable to contain his laughter. “I don’t need ‘ass-pats’ from Thomas, he already told me he’d help me find a job after I graduate, and really, it just sounds like you’re jealous.”

Jemmy reached for an unopened bottle of water and resumed watching the argument.

John stood up, losing his cool. He shot a look at his roommate and responded coldly, “I would rather eat a turd than work with that granola-assed, self-obsessed Thoreau wannabe.”

James Monroe watched the square-jawed student storm off, and shook his head.

“Can’t stand him. None of us can.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Jemmy muttered, feeling rather bad for the other student, “He seemed alright. I mean, you did embarrass him pretty badly.”

“You don’t understand,” James placed both hands on the table, and prepared to defend himself, “He does nothing but pick fights with all of us. Me, Thomas, even Martha, when she’s around. That’s Thomas’ girlfriend, if you didn’t know. Anyway, he’s so different from all of us that he just makes things awkward. I’ll never forget the time he and Thomas argued for three hours about whether or not corporations should count as people.”

Jemmy sputtered, “Three hours?”

“Yes. I’m not exaggerating. Towards the end it got really personal and Thomas threatened to go to the dean with some information about John plagiarizing case briefs for his constitutional law class.”

“What?”

“Right hand to Jesus,” James raised his right hand solemnly, his slight southern drawl appearing intermittently, “I don’t know if it’s true, to be honest. About the plagiarism. But Thomas can’t stand him.”

Jemmy listened intently as James continued to spill the details of the cousins’ ugly rivalry.

“Thomas is like the leader of our crew, I guess. Probably because he’s the oldest, I don’t know. Anyway, I admire the guy and agree with him on a lot of issues, you know, politically. But John thinks I’m being a suck-up so Thomas will get me a good position at the university one day, because he’s so involved and all the professors love him.”

“Is that true?”

James shrugged casually, “If it was, can you blame me?”

“I guess not…” Jemmy answered, his voice trailing off as the crowd of students around him milled about, their voices and conversations ebbing and flowing. He checked his watch and noticed it was nearly eight thirty. “I thought there was a speaker?”

“So did everyone else. I guess he’s not going to show up.”

“Who was it supposed to be?”

“Some farmer named Washington. Lives over in the mountains. I think he’s a land surveyor, too. And an ex-military guy.” James frowned.

“Thomas thought he had a ‘good perspective’ about government intervention in large scale farming, but I think he just wanted to make it look like he was presenting both sides of the issue.”

“Thomas doesn’t care for this Washington guy?”

“Well…” James leaned back in his chair, chuckled to himself for a moment, shook his head, and then, “It’s a long story.”

“I’ve got time.”

“A couple years back,some journalism major called Callender published an article about Thomas that attacked him and called him a fraud. At this point, Thomas was trying to get established in the environmentalist community. It was this shitty rag-mag, you know, nothing too crazy, but Thomas still got really offended. And so he called me up and asked me to investigate this Callender student to see what he knew.”

Jemmy nodded slowly, waiting for more. James grabbed his own water and took a long gulp.

“It was nothing, honestly, just some cynical journalism major with a bone to pick with academia. And Thomas happened to be publishing something at the wrong moment. But Thomas was really embarrassed. And so he started trying to make friends with a more eclectic group of people, to make it look like he was more bipartisan in his views.”

“But what was the article about?” The tiny scholar shifted his weight in his chair, interested. In the corner, he saw the lanky Virginian with an arm draped around a pretty brunette, who he assumed was Martha, and slowly found himself becoming more and more fascinated with the complex graduate student.

“I can’t remember exactly. Solar panels being used on farms, for large-scale farming, I think. This Washington guy read the article and liked the idea and so Thomas asked him to come speak tonight and defend him. Well, implicitly defend him. Having a big-shot like Washington on his side will make Callender’s claims look pretty stupid.”

“I guess it’s pretty bad that Washington didn’t show up, then,” Jemmy reasoned. James laughed sharply.

“Bad, yeah. But I’m not surprised. The idiot probably forgot.”

Jemmy recoiled at the abrupt insult, but was prevented from asking further questions as Thomas approached with his girlfriend. She introduced herself and sat down next to James, nodding to Jemmy politely. Thomas wore a look of pained, veiled embarrassment on his face while James continued to prattle on happily.


	6. Chapter 6

Aaron kicked the washing machine, one hand holding an open bottle of beer, the other running fingers through his hair.

“I am too drunk for this.”

“We can wait until tomorrow!” Alexander responded, feeling sillier with each sip from his own drink. He shivered once, still chilled from their brief walk to the nearby convenience store to pick up more alcohol, and watched as his companion pleaded with the inanimate object.

“Please, Heavenly father,” Aaron began solemnly, bowing his head and placing his right palm on top of the appliance, “Let this washing machine be cleansed of its demons, accept Jesus, and this load of laundry I just shoved inside of it—“

“—Oh my god, is it plugged in?” Alexander put his drink down on a nearby end table in the hallway and dropped to his knees, searching behind the appliance on the wall. “It’s not even plugged in, you idiot—“

“—In Christ’s name, Amen,” Aaron raised his gaze to the heavens and laughed as he felt the washing machine jolt and turn on. “Do you see, my dear Mr. Hamilton? The power of prayer.”

“Don’t even go there,” Alexander shot back, himself giggling, “Jesus had nothing to do with plugging in a common household appliance.”

Aaron pointed a finger, “There you go again, getting all secular on me. Don’t be surprised when the rapture comes and you’re not invited.”

“You not even making sense anymore.”

“We’ve been drinking for four hours, what do you expect?”

Alexander found this indescribably funny and collapsed into a fit of laughter again, clutching his stomach and bending at the waist. “We should have bought more food. It’s so bad to drink on an empty stomach.”

“God, did you really invite yourself over to my beach house for four days?” Aaron replied, his cheeks bright with mirth, “What was I thinking, letting you do a thing like that? Pushy little man.”

The washing machine shook again and gurgled loudly. Alexander grabbed his drink and made his way towards the stairs. He raised a hand up, and called back playfully, “You owe me this one, buddy. We have a lot to discuss.” His voice trailed off as he made his way down the stairs, Aaron close behind him.

Once in the living room again, the two young men seated themselves across from each other, drinks in hand. For a few seconds, the only noise was the rumbling of the washing machine upstairs. Aaron exhaled.

“Alright. I’ve been putting it off for long enough.”

Alexander looked up, faintly alarmed, “What’s that?”

“I’m sure by know you know that the whole rumor about you and that Laurens kids started with me,” an easy smile spread across Aaron’s face, and he gazed out the window. “I was just hanging out with Jemmy one day, shooting the breeze, and it came out.”

Alexander felt the old familiar lump in his throat, and stared dolefully into his bottle.

“And I guess I owe you  _ another  _ apology,” Aaron finished, quietly, the sheepish smile still on his face. Alexander noticed with some irritation that he couldn’t make eye contact, but chalked it up to the alcohol.

“This whole fight is so stupid,” Alexander replied, frowning. “So fucking stupid. Why should I care who Jemmy hangs out with? Why should I care what people say about me? What difference does it make?”

“Are you talking to me or is this rhetorical?”

“I mean, I’m an adult,” Alexander stood up, walked to the kitchen, and grabbed another drink. Aaron watched him intently as he began pacing. “I’ve had relationships that work, and I’ve had relationships that ended badly. It’s part of life.”

“All true,” Aaron nodded from the couch, resting his chin on the back cushion. 

“I mean you,” Alexander lifted a hand, grinning at nothing, “You don’t give a shit about your family, you don’t give a shit about your grades, you try and turn my friend against me, you sleep around and break hearts, and yet, and yet—“

“—Is this actually going anywhere?” Aaron called again, swallowing another sip of beer and chuckling. “I wouldn’t have put things so brusquely but I guess I can’t argue with your assessment.”

“You know what?”

“What.”

Alexander placed a hand flat against the ice cold granite countertop, “I would like to apologize, too. Right here. While I’m drunk enough to make sense of it.”

“Does this even count as a truce if we’re both too drunk to think?”

Alexander smiled to himself and closed his eyes, remembering vividly the afternoon in the dorm room with Bobby, and everything he’d said after his unsuccessful meeting with Jemmy. He nodded as the thoughts filled his mind, ran through them, prepared to speak again.

“It will count as a truce if we are both one-hundred percent honest with each other. And I mean one-hundred percent.” Alexander finally opened his eyes and looked at his companion. 

“I swear on the future grave of Great Uncle Stephen, I will be one-hundred percent truthful,” Aaron raised his right hand. “But, I have one caveat.”

“Oh of course you do.”

“Nothing that is said here ever leaves this house. No matter how innocuous, no matter how harmless or silly. Everything said tonight will be kept in strictest confidence.”

Alexander watched the other student for a moment, aware of the tiny smirk on his mouth, but knowing he was being serious. He slowly made his way back to the couch, processing the request. 

“I think…I think that’s fair,” Alexander concluded, running a hand through his hair. “Since you already went, I suppose it’s my turn.”

“It is indeed. Let me take another sip, I may need it.”

Alexander shot him a sardonic look. And then, “I confessed to Bobby that I thought you were strange and untrustworthy.” His words came out candid and breathless. Aaron raised his eyebrows and swallowed while Alexander surged forward. “He actually stood up for you, but I disagreed with him. I just…I just don’t like the way you treat people. I think you are arrogant and selfish. There.”

For another minute, Aaron held his silence and let the words sink in while his companion peeled the label off his beer. The sounds of cars and trucks whizzing past on a distant highway hit the living room and, unbeknownst to Alexander, flashes of lightning creeping closer in the gathering nighttime clouds.

“Wow,” Aaron finally replied. “Well. I…thank you for being honest.”

“I can’t help what I feel.”

“No I understand that, but I just—“

“—I guess the best thing for everyone would be for you to prove me wrong.” Alexander continued, unable to make eye contact, cheeks blooming with color. Several pieces of torn label fell into his lap. “I shouldn’t have said what I did to Bobby and Jemmy. I was just…reacting.”

“I think you act too rashly, and too quickly, and I think you are outrageously rude. And a bully.”

Alexander looked up, offended and prepared to defend himself, and Aaron held up a finger, “Remember our stipulations. This is an airing of grievances.”

“I know, but I’m not rude, I’m just passionate—“

“—I’m going to tell you what Bobby won’t tell you, because he’s too nice,” Aaron finished his beer and smiled. “You are a rude little boy.”

Alexander shook his head, and looked back at his peeling label, “You don’t have to be so goddamn condescending all the time. It’s when you say things like that, ‘rude little boy’. I’m not a child, Burr. Stop talking to me like one.”

Another flash of lightening outside, and Aaron bit his tongue in embarrassment, “I don’t mean it to be a personal insult to you. That’s just how I talk.”

Alexander shrugged, “I don’t like it.”

“Well how about this,” Aaron placed his beer on the coffee table, and clasped his hands, “I promise not to use condescending epithets if you promise to think before you react. We’ll meet in the middle.”

Finally Alexander raised his bleary gaze, squinting, “Still sounds like you got off easier.”

“We will both be getting off, Hamilton.” Aaron couldn’t resist the joke.

Alexander tilted his head back and laughed, “ _ See _ ? That’s what I mean. I told Bobby you were a pervert. And you are. Here’s something,” Alexander responded, mockingly, “Maybe you’re not such a stud. Maybe you make so many sexual innuendos because you’re actually starved—“

“—Me? Starved? Please, I’ve slept with literally hundreds of people,” Aaron reasoned, counting off paramours on his fingers. “Probably thousands. More than you.”

“Quality, not quantity. And even still, you’re probably lying,” Alexander smirked. Before Aaron could respond, a loud and sudden clap of thunder shook the house, causing Alexander to drop his drink and swear.

“What the hell was that? Was that thunder?” Alexander felt dizzy as he shot up from his seat, his adrenaline pumping. “Was that a storm?”

“Yeah, probably. We get a lot of them around here this time of year, being so close to the ocean—“

“—Oh. Oh, ok. Ok.” Alexander closed his eyes and breathed deeply as another bout of thunder rolled through the atmosphere.

“Are you alright?” Aaron inched closer, watching as his companion inhaled and exhaled, deeper and heavier each time.

“I…I think I’m going to be ok, I just have to—“

Another clap of thunder interrupted him, and the rain began. Several flashes of lightning lit the trees closest to the house, swaying dangerously in the strong gusts of wind. Aaron tilted his head, and reached down to pick up pieces of the bottle from the floor. He watched as the other student turned pale. Alexander opened his eyes.

“How bad will it get?” He spoke in a tiny voice, one Aaron had never heard before, as he continued staring in confusion. 

“I don’t know. It might last all night. Because it’s autumn, the hot and cold air kind of…I don’t know. Mix together. And we get these oceanic storms rolling through—“

“—I’m sorry. I’ll be ok,” Alexander inhaled, exhaled, “When I was little, there was this massive hurricane that came through and destroyed everything. It tore through my house, and all I could hear were people screaming and trees snapping in half, and I—“

In another second, lightening struck, and the power shut down. Alexander swore loudly.

“Shit. I can’t believe this. There’s got to be a fuse box somewhere,” Aaron stood up, “In the meantime, I think we should find some candles. Are you sure you’ll be alright?”

“I think I’m having a panic attack right now.”

“Excellent. You just sit there and breathe like a woman giving birth and I’ll go stumble around in the dark lighting candles.”

“This isn’t fucking funny, Aaron,” Alexander shot back. He shuddered as another rolling gust of wind and thunder boomed around him. For the moment, he could do nothing but breathe, and his mirth faded away.

“Here we go, I found some.” Though his eyes were closed, Alexander could hear glass clanking against wood as Aaron set down four large candles. “Great Uncle Stephen to the rescue.”

The sound of a match striking against a box, and the Nevisian opened one eye. Three “Sacred Heart of Jesus” candles now decorated the table, and one displaying “Our Lady of Guadalupe”.

In between his shuddered breaths and racing heart, Alexander chuckled, “Oh, you have got to be kidding me. Are those the ones they sell–”

“—In the grocery store and at flea markets? Yes. Those are the ones.” Aaron lit the last of the candles and sat back, their small section of couch bathed in orange light. The loudest crash of thunder yet made Alexander swear again, and to his dismay, the old beach house rocked in the wind. 

“How stable is this house? I mean, how many storms has it seen?”

“A great many, Alexander. We’ll be alright.”

“My heart is going to beat out of my chest. I feel like I can’t breathe. Is the house still shaking?” Alexander kept his eyes closed and put his head down. Aaron watched him, both nervous and amused. “Feel my heart. Does it feel erratic to you?”

“Are you— Are you serious? I’m not a doctor.”

“Just do it.” Alexander grabbed his companion’s wrist again and pressed his hand against his chest. He opened his eyes and Aaron looked uneasily into dilated pupils. 

“It feels regular. Can I have my hand back?”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

Alexander dropped Aaron’s wrist and leaned back onto the couch, and Aaron watched as his chest rose and fell in a frightened rhythm. The flames from the candles danced off his rumpled clothes and erratic hair, and Aaron felt, for the first time, some degree of affection. 

“You’re right. I’ll be ok. It just caught me off guard. I didn’t know there’d be a storm.”

“Will you be alright to sleep tonight?”

Slowly, Alexander sat up straight, and reached into his back pocket. Pulling out a flat leather wallet, he nodded, yes. 

“I knew it was a good idea to bring these,” he pulled out several white pills, and Aaron looked on, interestedly.

“You keep drugs in your wallet. Interesting.”

“They’re prescription sleeping pills, smartass,” Alexander gave him another grin, sharp features made more handsome in the crimson light of the holy candles. “I thought I should bring some sleeping aid in case you decided to throw wild parties and bring back girls to screw.”

“Uh huh.”

Alexander pretended not to hear him, “I have trouble sleeping in strange places. So I came prepared. These will help me relax enough to get a good night’s rest.”

“Are you sure you should be taking those after drinking so much?” Aaron reasoned. Alexander stopped mid movement, and closed his mouth. 

“Shit. You’re right,” he answered, breaths still labored. He looked at Aaron helplessly. “More alcohol?”

Aaron nodded, rose up from the couch, and grabbed two more beers. 

Another bolt of lightning, accompanied by a clap of thunder, made Alexander jolt in his seat once again. Aaron sat down, handed him the drink, and put his arm around him, matter-of-factly. 

“This house has been through, oh, I don’t know. Hundreds of thunderstorms. Probably thousands. And hurricanes, too. I promise you, it’s not going anywhere. Great Uncle Stephen paid for quality. You wouldn’t want to insult Great Uncle Stephen by questioning his house buying ability, would you?”

“Certainly not,” Alexander replied, slowly reclaiming a normal breathing pace. Aaron’s arm lingered around him for a minute more, both silently sipping their drinks, and then he took it back. He reclined into a more comfortable position and watched the storm dissipate outside the massive windows.

“Looks like it’s just going to blow over, I suppose. Figures we’d get a tiny little storm and still lose power anyway.”

Alexander didn’t answer. He let the alcohol course through his veins, dizzy and lightheaded, heart still beating too quickly to be called normal.

\--------

Many thoughts coursed through little Jemmy’s mind as he lay in Thomas’ guest bedroom, tossing and turning, wishing he could simply take a pill and get to sleep. He ran over the events of the evening, not sure whether he’d made new friends or they were just pretending, to be nice, and tried to block out the noises he thought he hear from the bedroom next door.

Monroe had seemed the most friendly, Jemmy reasoned. He like the way the other tall Virginian let his thoughts spill forth, unaffected. He had an easy laugh, a bright and kind countenance, and gave off the air of harmless playfulness. In fact, pondered the tiny scholar, he seemed to be, in every respect, the social opposite of Aaron Burr. 

Jemmy recalled an interaction of the night, in which Thomas noticed how friendly the two students were getting. “You could turn that one inside out,” the lanky Virginian whispered, indicating towards Monroe, “And there wouldn’t be a stain of ugliness on him. Just a decent, good human. Right to the core.”

Jemmy smiled in the dark, but was interrupted by a loud moan from the adjoining room. He felt himself blush, and turned over on his side. 

He toyed with the idea of coming back to Virginia, to stay, for good. He tried to remember why he’d left in the first place. He was so young, and his reasoning so immature—“I’m ready to see the world, I don’t want to be stuck here forever. The weather is atrocious.” Shaking his head “no” and covering his eyes in slight embarrassment, Jemmy realized how idealized he’d made everything seem, and wondered why no one stopped him. He was, at his core, a Virginian, and perhaps that was why he never fit in with the bitter, self-interested Northerners. 

“And now you’re starting to sound like Thomas,” he whispered to himself. More loud, rhythmic squeaks of a bed spring, and a man’s pleading voice, and Jemmy wished he’d brought ear plugs.

What was his roommate doing for the break? Jemmy tried to keep his mind occupied, hoping the mundane would lull him to sleep. For the life of him, he couldn’t recall Aaron ever having a loyal group of friends. He thought about Alexander, most likely staying on campus, occupying his own mind with writing. 

Jemmy came to the conclusion that it wasn’t Virginian air that was toxic, but rather the people he surrounded himself with.

“I shouldn’t write them off so easily.” Jemmy felt guilty, and torn in half. 

A girl screamed Thomas’ name, and Jemmy sighed angrily. He grabbed a pillow and covered his head.

He liked Martha, too, and liked watching the young, handsome couple together, but secretly loathed the fact that Thomas wanted to bring her back to his house. Jemmy knew it wasn’t his place to dictate what the lanky Virginian did with his time, and with whom, but really. 

It was at night when all the thoughts came to him, all the things he’d promised he’d be to different people, and the guilt that told him he couldn’t be everything to everyone burned a nauseous pit in his stomach. He remembered the essays he’d promised to write, with Alexander, concerning constitutional interpretation, and cringed. He wanted to, certainly he had an interest in it, but why did he feel so restless? Something gnawed at his soul. 

Had Alexander bothered to text or call him in the two days since their Thanksgiving break had started?

“No.”

Did Alexander show any sort of sympathy about putting Jemmy in a hard place, making him choose between Aaron and himself? 

“Nope, not really.”

Jemmy crossed his arms over his chest. Why should he help Alexander, when all he felt told him that the student from Columbia was using him? He never felt that way with Thomas, James never gave off any self-interested vibes. Even the scowling, insulted Marshall seemed more genuine than the insecure New Yorkers. 

The moaning from the next room reached a crescendo, and Jemmy felt the wall shake as a hand hit it, and he cringed.

“God bless,” he muttered, clutching the pillow tighter over his face. 

He tried to view things through a neutral lens, and wondered if there even was such a thing. He made it a point to bring it up with Thomas, tomorrow.


	7. Chapter 7

Alexander woke up with half of his face hanging off the edge of a bed, pink sheets by his mouth slightly covered in drool, and seagulls screaming obnoxiously outside his window. He sat up with a start, squinted at the clock on the nightstand—“Ten forty-six?”—and looked around him. It was a woman’s bedroom, drenched in garish floral patterns.

“What the hell…” Alexander tried to swing his feet over the edge of the bed, thinking about how he’d managed to make it upstairs, and his head spun with a hangover. He clutched his hair between both hands and waited until the dizziness stopped. When it finally did, he stood up and stretched. Downstairs, he could he someone rattling around in the kitchen.

“I thought you were dead.” Aaron greeted him, already dressed, and, it appeared, showered. 

“What time did you get up?” Alexander ran a hand through his matted, messy hair and threw himself into a bar stool, putting his head down on the counter.

“Eight, I think. Do you want anything to eat?”

“God, please, no. Just coffee. And water, if you don’t mind.” Alexander’s voice was muffled; he felt faint.

“Are you going to be alright?”

“Probably. Just a hangover.” Alexander waited for a moment, and then, “What time did we go to bed? And how the hell did I get upstairs? I don’t remember going upstairs.”

Aaron laughed, “Do you remember having a panic attack?” Alexander looked up and Aaron inclined his head towards the tacky religious candles, still on the coffee table. Alexander grinned.

“Oh, Jesus. Yeah. Yes. Sort of. I didn’t take any sleeping pills, did I?” He fixed his tired gaze onto Aaron, who shook his head.

“No. I stopped you. I saved your life. You owe me big time.” 

Alexander put his head down again, laughing, “Just bring me my coffee. I can’t process any of this right now.”

Aaron acquiesced, and sat down next to his companion. For a moment, the only sound was the crashing waves, and the intermittent slurps of hot coffee.

“Did I..um…” Aaron began, his own headache only slightly ebbing with the influx of caffeine, “…Did I apologize, last night?”

“Yes. Yes you did.” Alexander smiled to himself, feeling like he’d made progress. Something heavy and immaterial lifted off his chest, and he prattled on, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about my panic attacks. I figured I had them under control. I used to go to therapy, but stopped. I don’t know why. Maybe I just ran out of time. Whatever. In any case, I’m sorry, I should have warned you.”

To Alexander’s pleasant surprise, Aaron’s laughed. 

“If anyone owes anyone another apology, it’s me to you, for not warning you about the storms we get up here. We’re just lucky they decided to fix the power in time for me to brew coffee.” He stared into his drink, made nearly white with all the cream and sugar he used.

“Alright. All the apologies are on the table,” Alexander laid a palm on the counter, “I think this is going well.”

“Cathartic.” 

“Now what exactly are the plans for the day?” He inquired, sipping his coffee, jet black and strong. 

Aaron but his lip in thought, “I hadn’t really made any, to be honest. It’s Thanksgiving, you know.”

A jolt of some unnamed emotion hit Alexander, and he responded lamely, “Oh. Happy Holidays, then.”

“We could prepare dinner,” Aaron could barely keep the laughter from his voice, and he snorted into his cup. 

Alexander tried to remember the last time he celebrated a proper thanksgiving. He certainly hadn’t on the island, and when he arrived in America he’d spent some holidays with his foster family, which he supposed constituted a proper Thanksgiving, but deep down Alexander wished he’d had more blood relations to enjoy it with. Aaron put the awkward silence at ease.

“Last Thanksgiving, my cousin and I just stayed at the University and ordered a pizza and watched shitty movies in my dorm all night. Jemmy wasn’t there, don’t know where he’d gone off to. But it was pretty fun.”

“Which cousin?”

“Matt Ogden. He’s like…my best friend, too, you could say. He’s a relation on my Aunt’s side. Technically I guess he’s an uncle, but we’re the same age, so—“

Alexander furrowed his eyebrows and tried to place a memory.

“Was he with you that night, at the bar—“

“—Oh, that night. When we were in the parking lot. Yeah, that was him.”

“He’s…he’s your cousin?”

Aaron looked at his companion and smiled, confused, “Yes. Well, again, I think he’s my uncle, but I just call him my cousin because it makes more sense.”

Alexander realized he’d made some incorrect judgments, and realizing that he’d self-righteously spouted those judgments to Bobby, and immediately felt guilty. 

“I thought you two were…” Alexander lifted a hand, getting redder by the second, “Well, the way you two are with each other, I thought you two were…”

At this, Aaron laughed, and Alexander felt his mouth dry, and palms go clammy.

“Oh, no. We’re not boyfriends.” Aaron finished his coffee and rubbed his eyes. “No, no, nothing like that. I’ve known him since I was very young. We’re just close.”

Alexander cleared his throat nervously, “I’m sorry for assuming. I’m a little embarrassed.”

“Don’t be, seriously. It’s alright. I’ve had people assume worse things about me.” Quickly, Aaron changed the subject. “Did you want to see the ocean?”

Alexander raised his eyebrows and blinked, a half-grin forming on his mouth. 

“The ocean?”

“I mean, ok, I know you’ve probably seen enough of the ocean to last a lifetime, but…It’s really pretty this late in the season. And there aren’t any annoying tourists dicking around.” Aaron waited while his companion toyed with the idea. “The fresh air will help with your headache, I promise.”

Alexander nodded, his own thoughts ebbing and flowing inside his brain too rapidly to make sense. He realized, briefly, that he was actually enjoying himself. 

\----------

It was predictably cold and damp as the two students walked silently towards the beach, the sound of the waves crashing getting louder and louder. Thankfully, too, thought Aaron, looking at nearly everything else around him rather than his companion, because the silence was almost too overwhelming to bear. He sidestepped a particularly large sea shell and kicked another out of the way, shoes covered in sand.

“All oceans are different,” Alexander finally broke the silence. “No two beaches are exactly the same. People have this idea that all sand is basically just sand, all the seashells and rocks look the same at every beach, all waves pretty much crash the same, but it’s not true.” He searched around for a nice place to sit, relatively dry, and sighed as his body hit the earth. Aaron watched him for a moment.

“You don’t want to go for a walk? You just want to sit here?” He half-smiled.

“To be honest, I’m not big on exercising,” Alexander picked up a tiny piece of driftwood, and drew a line in the sand, “Besides, I’m still feeling a little dizzy from the hangover.”

Aaron situated himself next to his companion, “Fair enough, I guess.”

“New England beaches are so much different. Even the sand is coarser.” Alexander tried to steer the conversation into different waters. 

“I’m sure Caribbean beaches are much more beautiful.” Aaron hadn’t meant to sound bitter, but knew that’s how it came across. Thankfully, Alexander didn’t take offense.

“They are beautiful, but a different sort of beauty. To me, I can’t associate the Islands with anything other than poverty. But I know they’re supposed to be paradise. People travel from all over the world to come visit.” He picked up a handful of sand, and then let it slip through his fingers. “It really is strange how that works, you know?”

Aaron furrowed his eyebrows, “How what works?”

“You can put a human being in—literally–one of the most beautiful places on earth, and there will still be misery and suffering. It’s inescapable.” 

“But you were poor. If you had money—“

“ _ —You _ had money.”

Aaron closed his eyes, and sighed. Alexander pressed on.

“All I’m saying is, if there’s one thing I know for certain, it’s that mankind is just bound and determined to be sad. It’s inescapable.”

“But there are more variables to it than that,” Aaron responded, watching as a piece of sea weed struggled to break free from the current. “There are the people you surround yourself with, your physical and mental health, your level of learning—“

“—But all those things are man-made, and man-controlled. Being restless and dissatisfied are precursors to those things, which mankind engages in in order to better himself. Because he feels sad.”

“Or just curious. You could say curiosity is another one of those organic traits, that inspires betterment.”

“Exactly. He’s curious to better himself. Implying his current situation is worse than the one he wants to attain,” Alexander grinned, sharpening his argument. He felt his companion grow quiet as he digested the words. Alexander looked to the horizon and marveled at how, on a foggy day, the sky and the water were indiscernible. 

Aaron shook his head, “For all the bullshit that’s happened to me, I still can’t believe the world is that dark. It just feels too hopeless.”

Alexander’s grin faded slightly, and he stole a glance at the other boy, “Do you know anyone who is really, truly happy with themselves and their lot?”

Aaron shrugged.

“There’s a reason why the saying ‘ignorance is bliss’ is so prevalent. It’s because it’s true.” Alexander kept his gaze sternly on his companion, and Aaron pretended not to notice. “The more you learn about your world and your place in life, the darker everything appears. The more helpless you feel. You can whistle in the dark all you want. But this world will break you.”

Finally,Aaron looked up. He laughed nervously, “How did this conversation get so dark?”

Alexander offered a small smile, trying to lighten the mood, “Sorry. I get carried away. I didn’t mean to bring you down. It’s something that’s fascinated me for a long time, the human condition.”

“Tell me more about your childhood.”

Aaron’s demand caught Alexander off guard, and he looked over, “Really?”

“I want to know.” Aaron smiled at himself, picking up a particularly beautiful, opalescent sea-shell, and handed it to the other student. Alexander accepted, chuckling. 

“If you insist, but I think I’ve blocked most of it out,” Alexander kept his smile, but grew misty eyed. “There’s not much to say. We were poor. My mom had a little convenience store, and we lived upstairs.”

Alexander thought for a moment, wondering how, exactly, he could make his companion see the tears in the wallpaper, the cracks in the wall, the stains on the floorboards. Or make him smell the mildew and cigarette smoke—make him see Rachel Faucette chain-smoking, wrinkles already forming around her young face—and make him feel the suffocating heat that she swore would eventually kill her, year after year. Alexander could still see his older brother’s cruel face, scolding him for asking if there was any more to eat, telling him to be thankful for what he had.

_ You eat too much. You’re too demanding. You’re not even supposed to be here, did you know that? Mom told me she wanted to abort you, you know. She went all the way to the clinic, but didn’t have enough money. And now you’re demanding more food? Be thankful you were even born, Alex.  _

Aaron noticed his friend grow silent, “Alexander? You still in there?” 

“Yes. I’m fine, just thinking.” For reasons unknown to him, Alexander’s pulse began to race. “My father was…a difficult man to live with. He tried his best, I think, to provide for us.”

Aaron could sense that he wasn’t being entirely truthful. 

Alexander continued, “I think my older brother wanted to be just like him. You know how kids look up to their parents. I was much closer to my mother than I was to my father.”

“What was your father like?”

Alexander laughed mirthlessly. 

“Looking back, it’s clear that he was an alcoholic. But when you’re a kid, you don’t pick up on those things. You just think, ‘this is the way it’s supposed to be. Everyone’s family is like this.’ But eventually you pick up on the nuances around you. You start to compare yourself to other people, and you realize that some people just have it better than others.” Still, Alexander felt a pang of guilt. “If he’s still alive, I’d eventually like to help him.”

Aaron thought for a moment, and then spoke up, quietly, “You know, that’s really selfless of you, Alexander.”

Alexander blushed and looked away. “He is my father, despite the circumstances. He’s the reason I’m here. If my mother was still around, I’d help her, too. It’s only right.” A large ball of emotion lodged itself in his chest at the thought of his mother. 

“Aaron?”

Aaron looked up, being address directly, “Yes?”

“You have to swear to God you will never share this with another soul, do you understand? I’m only admitting this because you shared some things with me, and I think I can trust you.”

“Absolutely.”

Alexander took a deep breath, “I think my mother was a prostitute.”

Aaron looked at his companion, who stared mournfully at the ocean, and blinked several times, processing the information. 

“How sure are you?”

“Eighty, eighty-five percent,” Alexander answered, tonelessly. “There were strange men around, occasionally. I don’t know if she did it only when she was desperate for money, or if my father made her do it, or if she made a career out of it, because like I said, I blocked most of this out. But it’s the only thing that makes sense.”

Alexander felt his chest freeze up and it became harder for him to breathe. He tried not to imagine his mother, who had always been so effortlessly beautiful, selling her body in order to feed him. The guilt was unimaginable. He thanked God that the sea-spray was especially misty, that he could blame his watering eyes on the gusty ocean air around him. Aaron sat silently next to him, unsure how to respond. Finally, he found the words. 

“Feel free to tell me to fuck off, or that I’m being a pretentious shit, but I have been toying with the idea of going into family law once I pass the bar exam…because stories like that one make me so angry, so disgusted with humanity, with this idea of beating down a woman until she’s lost all hope, I just can’t see myself taking on any other cases. Or, treating any other cases with as much delicacy.”

Alexander exhaled and rubbed his eyes, wiping sand from his cheeks and out of his hair. He laughed, sadly, “I won’t tell you to fuck off,” he murmured. “I’m sorry I made this conversation so heavy. I’ve never actually shared that with anyone. I think Hugh Knox knew—you know Hugh.”

Aaron nodded to himself, remembering his father’s bluff protégé, so out of line with his dull family members, he wondered how the fat, jolly reverend had even met them. 

“But he said he wouldn’t tell a soul. And it’s just…” Alexander lifted his gaze towards the heavens, “Of course you want to go into family law. Of course you do.”

Aaron didn’t think before he moved closer to his companion, putting an arm around his shoulder. 

“I don’t think any less of you, Hamilton,” he said earnestly, “I don’t think you need anyone’s help. I’m sorry I called you a charity case. I was wrong.”

Alexander felt himself slipping, and hated being the one who needed comforting. He craved independence, and desired above anything else to be able to stand on his own—without needing people. Needing patronage, needing acceptance, needing a place to stay and a place to do laundry, needing, needing, needing, all the time. He felt so small, like a leech, and wasn’t sure whether or not he needed to scream, or walk into the ocean, and just keep going until his need drowned him. 

“Alexander? Listen to me.”

“Yeah.”

Aaron gripped tighter, “I’m so sorry I said all those things. I was a piece of shit. I was so mad at you for talking about me behind my back but…but the things I said were so much meaner. And I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Alexander responded flatly. His watch caught his eye and his mind told him it was time to eat, nearly noon. “I don’t really want to talk about it anymore. Thank you for your apology.”

A gust of wind shook them, spraying sand and ocean water everywhere, as the sky darkened. Aaron covered his face, and swore. Alexander noticed with some dark amusement that the gust had come from Aaron’s direction, and the he’d inadvertently blocked most of the spray. 

“You can let go of me now, if you want,” Alexander spoke up, wryly, “If you need to wipe your face.”

\--------

 

Jemmy sat at the kitchen table and looked around, wondering what Thomas Jefferson had planned for what he called a “Secular Non-Imperialist Vegan Harvest Celebration”.

James, who had invited himself over after the disappointing environmental awareness speech of the other evening, dug around inside the fridge for something to eat, secretly bemoaning the fact that Thomas refused to buy lunch meat, but not wanting to speak up. 

“So you’re celebrating Thanksgiving by not celebrating Thanksgiving?” Jemmy asked politely. Thomas cleared his throat and took a sip of water. 

James’ head shot out of the fridge. Taking a bite out of an apple, he spoke up, pieces of fruit flying from his mouth, “That’s not what he said. His holiday just happens to be on the same day as Thanksgiving, they’re not the same thing. Anyone can make up a holiday.”

“You will love it,” Thomas responded vaguely, “We can go to the Whole Foods in town and pick up a few things, you can pick out anything you want, and later on I’ll invite over some people to help us cook it. It’s so much fun when people bond over good cooking. You’ll see.”

“When I was little, I was never allowed in the kitchen while my mom was cooking. I always got in the way. Plus, I was the oldest, and I had to make sure the younger ones weren’t getting into trouble.” Jemmy stared at the table cloth. He’d given up on family gatherings since he went off to college–the nameless force of maturity that convinced him to move hundreds of miles away was the same nameless force that told him he didn’t have to spend holidays with his parents anymore. He wondered if he’d made the right decision.

James sat down at the table, loudly chewing on the apple, “The harvest get-together is so much better when you’re with friends. You can’t choose family, you could get stuck with a real bunch of idiots for family, and you’re still expected to play nice and enjoy their company. But you can choose who you’re friends with.”

Thomas nodded in agreement, and then, “Will Liz be joining us?” He looked pointedly in Monroe’s direction. The other Virginian smiled and nodded, yes.

“Who is Liz?” Jemmy asked, innocently.

“My girlfriend. Well, soon to be girlfriend. She’s a freelance model,” James added, impressed with himself. 

The tiny scholar smiled courteously, but inside felt the old familiar feeling of dejection. There would be couples, and then there would be him. Jemmy played the inevitable scene through his mind rapidly. Who are you? What is your name? Did you come here alone? He realized he must have been wearing every thought, because James continued talking at him, concerned. 

“Do you want me to invite some more people, like…more girls? Thomas said you were depressed.” James crunched into the apple while Thomas looked up, alarmed.

“James, I never said such a thing.”

Jemmy felt smaller than usual. “Oh. I…I’m not depressed. I’m ok, really. Please don’t go out of your way—“

“—Nonsense!” James laughed. Thomas turned pink, but the tall, handsome student prattled on. “I’m pretty well connected. Actually, I know a couple Princeton students that might be in town for the break. Want me to see if they’ll come?”

Jemmy faltered, “No, really, James, It’s alright—“

“—Do you know the Freneaus? Philip goes to Princeton. He’s a little flaky. A poet, or something. He gets drunk and cries a lot. But anyway, I think he might be in town this week. I’ll ask him to bring his sister, you’ll like her.” 

Thomas continued to sit in distant silence, paying more attention to his phone than the conversation around him. His features were bland, and when he got like this Jemmy realized he could never tell if the tall Virginian was having a scintillating conversation with Martha, or simply reading the weather. 

“You don’t mind, do you, Tom?” James looked at the sandy haired man, finishing his piece of fruit. “If I invite some more people over?”

Thomas raised his gaze, vaguely interested, “No, no, of course not. However, if you do invite more people, tell them to bring something to eat, to share.”

The conversation dragged for a few minutes longer, until Thomas decided it was time to go to the store. Jemmy was slightly concerned that James insisted on taking the front seat, without offering it to him, but resigned himself to the back. He pushed an umbrella out of the way with his feet and stared out the window, marveling at the Virginian countryside. 

\----------

The three men spent all day cleaning up—a small task, considering how pristine everything was—and by two in the afternoon, had things just the way Thomas liked them. James stood back and admired their work.

“You keep this place so damn clean, Thomas,” he remarked, sitting back in a chair, “I don’t know how you do it.”

Thomas smiled, mollified, while Jemmy toyed with the edge of his shirt, realizing it was slightly stained. 

“What time is everyone going to be here?” James continued from his seat next to the window. The mid afternoon sunlight glistened off his thick hair, and Jemmy questioned whether or not he truly wanted to be at a party surrounded by perfect people. “I just texted Philip, he says he’ll come, if there’s alcohol. Want me to invite John?” He grinned cruelly, referring to Thomas’ cousin.

“Not if he’s going to be an argumentative sour puss... ” the Virginian replied quietly, forgetting to be polite. James laughed loudly.

“I think it would be funny to see him drunk. I bet he’s a sloppy drunk. I’ve only seen him drink once or twice, but never so much that he’s wasted,” James added. 

“Will there be…you know, a lot of drinking tonight?” Jemmy asked, interested. He took a seat next to Monroe, who shrugged. 

“I don’t plan on getting too wasted, to tell you the truth. Liz doesn’t like it. You drink?”

Jemmy thought back to the parties Aaron had dragged him to, practically kicking and screaming, and remembered how loose-tongued he felt after one or two beers. Vaguely, he recalled telling some inappropriate jokes, and then watching Burr hastily try and explain them away. Something small told him Jefferson would probably do the same thing. 

“Sometimes.” Jemmy watched as Thomas left the room, smiling, on the phone. “Whenever I get drunk, I always end up saying something regretful.”

“Who says?”

“Well, I mean, my roommate tries to get me to go to parties. And he tells me what happened, the next morning. It’s so embarrassing. I don’t know how to hold my alcohol, I guess,” he admitted. He watched as James grinned broadly.

“Who cares what your roommate says. You’ll like these people. They’re way more down-to-earth,” James reasoned further, “it sounds like you really hate everything about Princeton, my friend.”

It was the first time Jemmy had been addressed thus. “Oh, no. I don’t hate it. I’m thankful for the education and the opportunities it will—“

“—You sound like a brochure.” James laughed, an easy sound. “Like you’re trying to convince yourself. Didn’t you say you were from Virginia, anyway? Why’d you leave, again?”

Jemmy knew it would be easier to shrug. James continued.

“You’re better off being in a place that accepts you for who you are, rather than trying to impress those pretentious fucks,” he raised a hand, “that try to change you and make you into something you’re not.”

“I’d like to come back to Virginia after I graduate,” Jemmy said suddenly, realizing he’d never explicitly voiced his conviction before. James nodded as if he was right on track.

“Sounds like a pretty solid plan. See, at least you’re going to make a change, you know? John will probably never leave Virginia, but just sit around scowling and hating every minute of it. Probably just to piss Thomas off, honestly.”

“Maybe he likes it here, though. He’s got family here, he’s got his girlfriend—what’s her name?”

Monroe made a grand gesture of rolling his eyes, “Polly. Jesus, if I have to hear anymore about her I’m going to vomit. Not that it’s your fault,” he added, seeing the embarrassed look on the tiny scholar’s face, “But if you had to live with him…John, I mean. You’d think she was a literal angel. Like flown down from the heavens simply to make John happy, the way he talks about her.”

“That…bothers you?”

“One time, I took his ConLaw notes to copy, because I wasn’t in class, and he’d sketched her, a little bit, in the margins.” James looked at Jemmy, cold eyes widened expectantly. Jemmy let out the requisite laugh. 

“I guess that’s a little strange. But I think it’s lovely that he cares so much about her.”

“I walked in on them having sex once.”

Jemmy coughed into his hand, unsure how to respond. He felt himself blush furiously, “Oh…”

“Yeah. You wanna talk about awkward. At least when me and Liz have sex, I have the decency to take her somewhere. Like my car.”

“That’s…romantic?” 

“Well what am I supposed to do? John’s literally always there, it’s like he never leaves the dorm,” James was on a roll, his pointed face expressing every emotion as he leaned this way and that in his chair, “Where’s the strangest place you’ve ever done it?”

Jemmy’s eyes widened, and he stammered, “That’s…well, I…”

“Just got off the phone with Martha,” Thomas entered the room, beaming, “she’s coming. And she’s bringing my favorite vegan brownies.”

“Oh… _ those _ brownies?” 

“Why, Mr. Monroe. Whatever are you insinuating?” Thomas replied cheekily, turning pink again and smiling to himself. James laughed at an inside joke, and Jemmy felt like a foreigner in a new country.


	8. Chapter 8

“You’re supposed to gut the stupid thing before you put it in the oven.”

 

“No. Absolutely not.” Aaron crossed his arms. “If you think I’m sticking my hand into a dead turkey’s butthole—“

 

“—They say the innards make a great broth.” Alexander shoved the poultry into his companion’s face, barely containing a laugh. Aaron swatted it away.

 

“Alexander, I swear to God—“

 

“Have you ever cooked anything in your life?” Alexander put the turkey back into the pan with a slight thud. The bird itself was small and rather pathetic, the cheapest turkey they could find at the last minute. He leaned against the counter, facing the other student. 

 

Aaron thought for a moment, “No. Not that I can recall. I always end up either burning it or not cooking it long enough. Whatever ‘it’ is.”

 

Alexander tsk tsked.

 

“Oh, and I suppose you’re top chef, now?” Aaron raised his eyebrows inquisitively, a half-smile on his face. Alexander began to nod smugly, and then broke into laughter.

 

“Actually no. I can’t pretend. I’ve never cooked a turkey before, or anything, for that matter. Well, I mean, unless you count the ramen.”

 

“Why did we even buy this stupid thing anyway?”

 

Alexander shrugged, “Something to do?” 

 

“You’re right,” Aaron looked around him, “God…and it’s only Thursday. I wish there were more things to do in the area. But I’m willing to bet they’re all closed.”

 

Alexander walked past him and into the living room, throwing himself down on the couch. He smiled, feeling content, their conversation on the beach from earlier still filling his mind with hope. 

 

“I don’t know. I’m enjoying myself. I have nice clean clothes,” he raised a hand and indicated toward the kitchen; from his vantage point, Aaron saw only the hand appear over the back seat, “the possibility of a moderately tasty dinner, free alcohol, a lovely beach to visit—“

 

“—Movies.”

 

“Yes. Movies…wait, what?” Alexander shot up. 

 

“There are a ton of DVDs here, somewhere. Probably in the attic. Great Uncle Stephen again. When he moved, my aunt threw them up there. She’s going to sell them, one day, but until then—“

 

“Yes! We should watch a movie!” Alexander stood up from the couch. “Should we try and find them? The DVDs?”

 

It was Aaron’s turn to shrug, “If they’re not all melted. I think the attic is insulated, but I can’t remember. But if they’re ok, I think it would be fun.” 

 

Something about the way Aaron stood in the kitchen, unsure of himself, made Alexander even more curious, “ Is there more stuff up there?”

 

Aaron shifted his weight and tried to keep the smile on his face, “You’re making me wish I’d brought my cigarettes,” he muttered, sheepishly. “I hate digging through the attic.”

 

Alexander walked closer, “Why?”

 

“Do I really need to tell you why I’d hate finding old memorabilia? When it comes to my family?” Aaron walked over to a drawer, pulled out a roll of tin foil, and began wrapping the turkey. 

 

“You’re the one who brought up the DVDs, not me,” Alexander reasoned. “If you just tell me where they are, I can go grab them, and we don’t have to sit here all night and stare at the wall.”

 

“I need like, six cigarettes,” Aaron mumbled, walking over to the fridge. He continued talking as if Alexander weren’t there. “Six cigarettes, and a bottle of tequila—I wish we didn’t drink all that wine—“

 

He fished around in the refrigerator for more alcohol, and let out a gasp of excitement when he pulled out a chilled bottle of vodka. 

 

“What’s the big deal?” Alexander began again, quietly. “How much worse can it be than admitting your mother was a prostitute?”

 

“It’s all my grandfather’s stuff. I’m pretty sure that’s where they keep it,” Aaron absentmindedly read the label, his pulse racing, “I know I shouldn’t be so nervous to go up there, I know I need to get over it, but…” His voice trailed off. He put the bottle on the counter with a loud clank and stared at it, feeling his eyes glaze over. In a moment, he felt a light touch on his shoulder.

 

“I didn’t mean to force the issue,” Alexander began, nervous, “If you don’t want to go up there, we don’t have to.”

 

“He’s dead and he’s still controlling everything,” Aaron said, “No. We’re going up there. I’ll get over it.”

 

“You sure?” Alexander asked again, wondering if he’d ever be willing to dig through his family’s old things—if any such things were even left—should he ever get a chance to go back to the island. A small voice in the back of his head told him no. He let the logic slide around his mind as he watched the black-eyed boy open the vodka, and take a drink directly from the bottle. 

 

“You’ll want some of this, too,” he offered, “trust me.”

 

Alexander laughed, took the bottle, and shook his head, “I am so glad we can drunkenly bond over shitty families. Funny how this is supposed to be the stereotypical ‘family holiday’, where everyone gets together and pretends like they care, and yet here we are—“ He finished with a small swig, squinting his eyes as the liquor burned his tongue. “That’s powerful stuff, holy shit.”

 

“I think this one might be a Great Uncle Stephen original,” Aaron responded, already feeling silly. “Alright. Let’s get it over with. Follow me, soldier.”

 

Alexander grinned and the two students made their way to the stairs, past the bedrooms, down the hallway, and up to another door. Aaron took a deep breath, and turned the handle.

Immediately, Alexander was hit with a rather musty stench—and another staircase—onto which he followed his companion. He wasn’t sure what he expected to find, but it certainly wasn’t something as mundane as a slightly stained carpet and fading wallpaper. The attic room was damp, rather wet, somewhat cold, and dark. 

Next to him on the wall, Aaron flicked on a light that illuminated a bare bulb hanging from the ceiling. On the far wall was a single, circular window. And around them were piles upon piles of boxes. 

“Well,” Aaron raised a hand towards the room, showing it off, “Here it is. There they are. All my parents’ shit.” He waited, sighed, stared at it for a moment, and then took another sip of alcohol. “Better get digging. The sooner we’re out of this place, the better, as far as I’m concerned.”

Alexander indicated that he’d like another sip, and Aaron handled the drink to him. He walked around, curiously touching things here and there, as if it were a new part of some museum exhibit. 

“What is that monstrosity?” Alexander looked at the large CD player, flanked by several obnoxiously large speakers, and laughed. “Is that….a stereo system? Let me guess, Great Uncle Stephen?”

“I don’t even know anymore,” Aaron’s voice was muffled as he dug through a box. 

Silently, Alexander walked over to the dusty pile of electronics. Reaching around it, he found the cord, and to his surprise, a wall outlet to plug it in. He looked back at Aaron, who had gone slightly red at the sight of some old clothes, and turned on the stereo. The light bulb from the ceiling flickered again, more ominously.

“What are you doing over there?” Aaron looked up, concerned. “Some of these outlets are dead up here. There’s no current running to them. I don’t want you to short circuit anything downstairs.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, that’s not how electricity works,” Alexander called back, fidgeting with the buttons on the player. He noticed, happily, that it still had potential. “Got any CDs?”

“Oh no. Oh no, no, no. I know what you’re thinking and I’m putting my foot down right now. I’ve seen you at karaoke night.”

Alexander stood up, laughing, “What are you talking about? I only asked if you had any CDs.”

“That thing’s broken.” Aaron took the bottle, and drank.

“Doesn’t look broken.” Alexander took it back, swallowed another small sip, and widened his eyes. “Actually looks pretty good. What kind of music do your crazy Christian relatives listen to?”

“Marilyn Manson.” 

Aaron turned his back and headed toward the boxes he’d just been digging through. He tried to be light-hearted, but an old shirt here, an old book there, reminded him of why he’d alienated himself from his family in the first place. He rummaged through box after box, growing more and more irritated. He could hear, vaguely, Alexander chatting behind him, listing off different bands he liked, and how he liked to sing, and how, at one point, he’d wanted to become a songwriter.

“Just shut up. For like two seconds.” Aaron finished with one box and kicked it out of his way, sending it skirting across the wood floor and into a wall. 

“Excuse me?” Alexander responded, taken aback. “What the  _ hell  _ just got into you?”

“I told you I didn’t want to come up here. I told you this attic is full of shit I hate and it gives me the fucking creeps.” Aaron couldn’t look at his companion, and instead, reached for another box.

“You don’t have to take it out on me. Look, I told you, I don’t care about the DVDs anymore. Here,” he held out the vodka. Aaron looked at it, then back at Alexander, and took another sip. Alexander nodded.

“There you go. Just drink the pain away.”

“That is the worst advice I think anyone’s ever given me,” Aaron replied.

“What about that box over there,” Alexander pointed to a smaller one, marked “Media”. He walked over to it, and peered inside. “Oh, wow. There are like…a ton of CDs in here!” He situated himself on the floor next to the box, and began looking at each one before Aaron could stop him.

“Come on, there’s nothing we need in there. Let’s just go,” the familiar sinking feeling returned to Aaron’s stomach; a box of his grandfather’s old sermons, the culprit.

“Wow,” Alexander chuckled, words slurring only slightly, “It’s all cheesy eighties pop CDs. What the hell. There are hundreds of them.”

“There are?”

“Like two hundred,” he exaggerated, before another sip.

“So that’s where they went.” Aaron’s curiosity was piqued, and he made his way over to where the Alexander sat. “I used to collect them. I guess I must have brought them all here one summer. I used to come up here to escape from my family.” He admitted.

Soon, he was on the floor next to his companion, looking at the cases. 

“Put one in. I want to hear it.”

“Oh, no, come on, Alexander—“

“—Nope. We’re doing this.” Alexander laughed as he stood up, unsteady, and reached for the CD player. He squinted as he pressed a few buttons, trying to get the music to play. In a moment, the first few chords began to play. Alexander bobbed his head along to the beat.

“This isn’t so bad.” He took a slightly bigger sip. “Retro.”

Aaron walked over to him and took the bottle. He smirked as he swallowed more vodka.

“What did you put on? Depeche Mode? Their lyrics are incredible.” Aaron grabbed the liner notes to one of the albums, and moved in close to the stereo. “They use a lot of…well, metaphors, I guess, to describe the helplessness of the human condition.”

“Uh huh. Metaphors.” Alexander leaned nearer to a speaker, and turned up the volume. “Sounds like dark electronica for sad goth kids.”

“This isn’t kid music,” Aaron said, a little defensively. Alexander looked up at him, his face reddening with mirth.

“Give me those liner notes,” Alexander said, grinning. He read them alloud:

“’It’s a lot like life, this play between the sheets, with you on top and me underneath, forget all about equality…let’s play master and servant.’” Alexander looked over at Aaron. “Wow, those are some lyrics, Burr. And…uh…what exactly is that supposed to be a metaphor for?”

He laughed as Aaron tried to grab the paper, reaching across Alexander’s chest and nearly dropping the bottle out of his hands.

“You have to be in the right mindset.” Aaron tried, lamely. The notes were just out of reach. 

“Oh yeah? And what mindset is that?” Alexander responded softly. Aaron smiled and blinked once. Alexander read further, “’Domination’s the name of the game, in bed or in life, they’re both just the same, except in one you’re fulfilled, at the end of the day.’”

“You’re too drunk to understand,” Aaron laughed, close enough to smell the alcohol on his companion’s breath.

“Is this the kind of thing you find fulfilling, at the end of the day?”

Finally, Aaron grabbed the notes and put them back into the CD case and  tossed it back into the box. Alexander stretched back, crossed his legs, and moved his foot to the beat, a smug smile on his face.

“I knew you were a pervert. I called it. I told everyone, ‘don’t trust him, he’s a strange one,’ and here we are. Listening to music about BDSM.”

Aaron shook his head, and sat back down next to him, “They have other songs, you know. They’re not all like that.” He looked into the bottle of vodka, and then, “We really drank half of that already? Jesus Christ, we’re going to be so sick tomorrow.”

“Don’t change the subject, pervert,” Alexander continued, the music still thudding away next to them, “Now you’ve got me all curious. What other weird shit are you into?”

“There’s no way I’m telling you.” The pleasant drunkenness washed over Aaron and he turned his body to face the other student, “You wouldn’t believe me.”

Alexander leaned in closer, the vodka making him brave, whispering, “Try me.”

Aaron leaned back, and chuckled, “Remember the woman I told you about? The one I want to introduce Jemmy to?”

“Dolley,” Alexander responded, closing his eyes and resting his head against the wall.

“Yes. I stayed at a bed and breakfast her mother runs, a couple years back,” Aaron cleared his throat, “I slept with her mom.”

Alexander sputtered, the CD skipped, and he spat some of the liquor out, “I’m sorry?”

“Yes. It was just once, but I did it. I was….twenty-two, I think.”

“I--I’m--”

“What can I say? I love experienced women,” Aaron finished, a pleasant nostalgia crossing his features. Beside him, Alexander wiped the back of his mouth with his hand, still laughing. 

“Unreal. I knew I was right about you. I won’t let you wrap Jemmy up in this despicable behavior,” Alexander said, “sleeping with older women, my God.”

“I would give Jemmy the time of his life,” Aaron said, laughing, “He needs me to help him get out of his shell.”

“He needs you like he needs a venereal disease.”

Aaron smacked Alexander playfully, “And what about you? Any regrettable hookups you should admit to before judging me so harshly?”

Alexander inhaled, his mind fogged, trying to remember his first time, “It was back on the island. I was thirteen. She was a neighbor. We made out for twenty minutes and then she said she was bored and walked away.”

Aaron tilted his head back, cracking up, “Jesus, you’re that bad, huh?”

“Well, I mean-- we were so young. The first kiss is always the worst.”

Aaron shifted his position, “Mine was age thirteen as well. At a picnic. She grabbed me and caught me off guard and I pushed her into a bush.”

Another peal of laughter from Alexander, “Horrific.”

“The first time I slept with someone it was just as bad,” Aaron felt his insides writhe in embarrassment, recalling the time he lost his virginity, “Wow. What a mess. Quick and awkward and  _ quiet.  _ We promised to call each other and went on a few dates but nothing ever came of it. She was pretty, though.”

Alexander grew quiet, and Aaron continued.

“You?”

“Well. I guess that depends on what you consider is losing your virginity.”

“Oh boy,” at this, Aaron grabbed the bottle of liquor, took a sip, and offered it to the other student. Alexander nodded, closed his eyes, and lifted the drink to his lips, letting it burn his throat. He nodded to himself, before speaking again.

“Yeah, it was bad. His name was Edward. He left the island a year before me. We went down on each other and then fell asleep in his car.”

It was Aaron’s turn to choke, bringing his hand up to his mouth. Next to him, Alexander closed his eyes in embarrassment, continuing, “I know, I know. Awful. Year after that I slept with this girl Kitty a few times but she was...high-maintenance. She dumped me on Valentine’s day.”

The pair grew quiet as the CD droned on, the eighties synth beats matching the pounding in their heads, and finally Aaron broke the silence. 

“Look, I swear I’ll stop asking and being nosy, but-- what exactly happened with you and that Laurens kid? I mean, weren’t you two dating for a while? Jemmy told me you guys had plans to move in together, and like--make things legit. Then he just stopped bringing it up.”

Alexander sighed, realizing he’d have to have this conversation sooner or later. In the interest of honesty, he began his story. 

“We were serious. We dated for about a year,” another sip, “What I didn’t know, and what he didn’t tell me, is that he wasn’t out to his family. They’re real small minded, conservative types.”

Aaron grunted, blinked, “Oh boy.”

“Basically when his father found out, he told John to break it off with me. John refused for a while, tried to please everyone, just date me under the radar, and eventually I had enough,” a mist came over Alexander, and he closed his eyes. “We ended up in a screaming match one night. He moved out. The next week he joined the military and shipped off to Alaska.”

“Jesus Christ,” Aaron breathed, “I’m sorry.”

Alexander shrugged, “I don’t hate him. I still care about him, and I know he cares about me, but-- I don’t know. Timing, circumstances. Whatever.”

The music thudded on; Aaron’s eyes caught the small wrist watch Alexander wore. Suddenly, he sprang up.

“The turkey!” He swayed, steadying himself, laughing, “It’s going to be ruined.”

“Oh fuck it. Let’s just order a pizza,” Alexander offered, lifting himself slowly off the floor, and shutting the music off. 

 


End file.
